Darkness Within
by OopsieDaizy
Summary: So if it wasn't bad enough that I'm a socially awkward freak job with no friends and no life, but I'm also the daughter of Lucifer- And he wants to kill me. I guess there's a slight upside to that though, two guys driving an Impala, and an angel in a trench coat actually want to save me.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own supernatural. Which makes me sad.**

* * *

A bleak and meaningless existence is the words one would often use to describe a person like me. Someone that spends their days alone, their only hopes of feeling alive and somewhat normal based solely by what happened to be on the television that day. Mundane, redundant, and every other word that basically described what I was, which was boring and pathetic.

I didn't ask to be this way- It's not as if I suddenly woke up one morning and exclaimed. "I think I'll have unnatural fears, that sounds like fun!" I never asked to be cursed with a disability that inhibited my actions and made the only place I could be comfortable was locked in seclusion. I'm sure that my family never intended this for me either, but unfortunately they had no choice in the matter- Just as it seemed I didn't.

My shrink, one of many that I had over the years, diagnosed me with social phobia and post traumatic stress. A diagnosis that I was quick to dismiss. It's a little hard for someone to adjust to a Doctor suddenly telling you that you're a mentally defective freak job and the only hopes of ever living a normal life are to pop pills everyday. Basically, I refused to accept it. But, in order to keep her off my back, and in order to keep receiving my disability checks which provided very little money, but enough to keep me from starving- I took the first job within walking distance of my apartment.

And, as I stared at the tenth customer that morning shouting obscenities that would make a sailor blush, I began to realize that I absolutely hated, no _loathed_, my job.

"I told you I wanted a no fat latte, with no foam." The woman with a bright orange tan and large plastic sunglasses said, waving her to-go cup in my face. "This is not low fat, and it has foam!"

Any normal girl with a working brain would have difficulty dealing with people like this. God, even saints or priests that their limits and would end up lashing out at the next person that looked at you wrong. But, I had to maintain a level of cool, I couldn't risk losing this job.

"I'm sorry." I said, brandishing a fake smile that I had actually mastered perfectly over the last six months of working in this pit. "The machine has a tendency to spurt out a little bit of foam every now and then. If you just take another ticket I'm sure your beverage will be the next one prepared."

Judging by the frown on her face, which deepened creases around her mouth, cracked with caked on foundation the color of a football, she wasn't pleased at that.

"I am not going to take another ticket and stand waiting for twenty minutes while you morons pretend to know what you're doing back there. I want my drink and I want it now. I have an appointment to keep!"

Count to ten, is what I would tell myself in times like these. Just count to ten so you don't smash the nearest hard object over their heads.

Turning to look back at my co-worker, a barely eighteen year old blonde girl who never could figure out how to work the coffee machine, I said.

"Mindy. Do you think you could get a no-fat, no foam latte made right now."

A squeal and a burst of steam was the reply I received as the machine suddenly exploded in what sounded like an old hairdryer crammed full of hair and fuzz. A cloud of the steam filled the area behind the counter as Mindy only covered her head to avoid what she figured would be flying metal.

This happened almost every day, and around the same time. The rusted out piece of crap our Boss called a coffee maker would always decide to break down- Which would always leave me, of all people, to explain to the caffeine crazed coffee guzzlers that they wouldn't be getting their fix that day.

"Sorry." I said, turning to the crowd. "But the machine is on the fritz again. Try and come back tomorrow."

A few customers actually cursed at me, while the others grumbled their displeasure while piling out of the coffee house so ironically named Convenience Java. I heard the gold bell at the door jingle nearly a dozen times before the place was finally silent.

"Joan isn't going to be happy." Mindy exclaimed, biting her fingernails. "She's going to accuse me of breaking it on purpose again."

Joan was our boss, naturally. She was an over fifty recently divorced Mother of three. After her divorce she had it into her head that the only way to show up her husband, who had moved on in his life with a twenty year-old, that she could start a business from scratch. That plan might have worked had she bought machinery and equipment that actually functioned on a regular basis.

"Call her." I ordered, since I was in charge when Joan wasn't around, which was all the time. Mindy was supposed to listen to me. "Tell her what happened. I'm taking my break."

"Not that we have to stay here much longer anyways." Mindy said, I could hear her clicking around on her phone. "Since the machine is busted we can go home early, which means I won't miss my date."

She gave a little cheer which I tried my best to ignore. Instead of responding I exited the front door seeking sanctuary under one of the large patio umbrellas. Living in Washington state it rained here practically everyday, and today was no exception. It was pouring to the point you couldn't even see halfway down the street.

I sat down on an uncomfortable metal chair, which had rusted out leaving an unattractive patina that would run and stain the sidewalk whenever it was damp. It left a copper and green water trail that ran down the cracks and dribbled over into the street.

This was the time of day that I looked forward to most, well- Other than actually being able to go home. It was the only moment during the hours I was on shift that I could somewhat relax. Although, even at my most relaxed point there was a level of stress and anxiety that pressed down on my shoulders like a heavy boulder. Basically, I was always tense, never relaxed. I had no idea what that felt like.

You see, when you live alone and dread the thought of running in to anyone and want to avoid all social situations and are unable to carry on normal conversations- Being out in public was like being placed in the middle of a pack of rabid animals that were content with ripping you to shreds. In fact, I think I would have rather took a pack of rabid animals over actually having to converse with someone.

I pulled my pack of cigarettes from my pocket, yes yes I know, I know. It's a terrible habit, lung cancer, heart disease and all that- But it was my only bad habit, and one of the only things that halfway kept me sane when my nerves were shot. Which was all of the time.

After lighting one up and taking a few puffs, I watched the smoke slowly dissipate in the cool autumn breeze.

"Excuse me." I heard a voice say next to me.

I jumped almost like being shot. That was how on edge I was- I was never prepared for anyone to come up and talk to me.

"Uh, yeah?" I replied ever so elegantly.

"Mind if I bum one of those?"

Normally I wasn't able to look people in the eye. I don't know why, it weirded me out and made me even more nervous. But this time I tried to push my way past that annoying quirk as so cleverly advised by my therapist.

It was a guy, of course. He didn't look very old- Probably in his mid to late twenties. His eyes were a green, his hair sandy brown. I couldn't help but notice the freckles that scattered across his nose and cheeks. Judging by the way his jacket wasn't nearly as soaked as it should've been considering there was a downpour, I knew he had to be parked near by.

"Sure." I finally answered, handing the pack up.

He slipped one out and popped it between his lips.

"Got a light?"

I pulled free my grandpas old zippo lighter that he had used during WW2. It was old and contrary, barely wanting to work but it was one of the items of his I received after he died, that and his dog tags which I kept chained to my purse strap. After flicking it a few times over it finally lit and he nodded a thank you.

"Mind if I sit here and wait out the rain?" He said, plopping himself down in another metal chair. "It's coming down in sheets."

Of course I minded, but I wasn't going to tell him that. It was rude, and even though having a perfect stranger sitting beside me scared me to the point of pissing my pants- I said nothing. My shrink encouraged moments like these. She wanted me to try and make small talk with people I didn't know in order to speed along my so called "recovery".

"So do you work here?" He asked, and I felt my stomach drop.

Now here came the awkwardness. The part where I would keep my attention on anything other than who was trying to talk to me. Just as I said before, I wasn't trying to be rude, but it was impossible for me to carry on conversations. Normal people could spew out words at random, even if they had absolutely no relevance to the topic of conversation. Making small talk and chatting was as easy as breathing for normal people. But, I was not normal.

"Yeah." I replied dryly, yeah... I was so good at this.

"I don't remember ever seeing you before." He turned to face me. "I've lived in this town my whole life, been to this coffee shop once or twice. Never seen you."

"Well I've only been working here for six months, and I'm not here everyday."

"Ah." He sat back and dragged at his cigarette. The way he blew the smoke out looked almost comedic, like he had never smoked in his life or just wasn't accustomed to it. Which was odd I thought right off, why would he bum a cigarette if he didn't even smoke? "Well, I was visiting my family in Florida all summer, maybe that's why I don't remember you."

It always somewhat amazed me how people could find a perfect stranger and have the most random of conversations, could blurt out anything and everything about themselves and not find it odd.

"I'm Dean, by the way." He added.

"Kate." I offered back.

"Good to meet you. So do you live around here?"

Normally by this time whoever was trying to talk to me would get up and flee into the distance. I had the uncanny ability of scaring everyone away. My body language and blank expressions gave off the illusion that I wasn't interested- Which wasn't always inaccurate.

"Yeah, above the Chinese restaurant down the street."

"Ah yeah. My cousin used to live in that building."

"It's an ok place." Was the only thing I could respond with.

Now the awkward silence. If someone was actually brave enough to attempt to talk to me, it relied solely on that other person to keep that conversation going, because I certainly couldn't do it. Trying to get words out of my mouth was almost like ripping my own arm out of its socket.

But, just like every other person that had the misfortune of conversing with me, he decided to give up and risk getting soaked then sitting there with some weird girl with an attitude problem.

He flicked his cigarette into a puddle, then stood.

"Well, it was nice talking to you. See ya later."

I waved nonchalantly, trying to give a smile which made my face feel like it was twitching in a seizure. He jogged away not long after that.

That was painful, I thought- But luckily it was over and done with. I doubted I would ever see him again.

Now I stood, and stomped out my cigarette, entering the coffee shop again noticing Mindy seated at a bar stool texting and giggling.

"Let's clean up so we can go home." I said.

"Ok, ok. But wait a second, look at the picture Patrick sent me." She shoved her i-phone in my face with the typical teenage picture plastered there. Her boyfriend with his shirt off standing in front of a bathroom mirror trying to show off his washboard abs. "Isn't he adorable?"

I only groaned and got to cleaning. If there was one thing in this world that I despised more than my own pathetic existence, it was teenagers. Now don't get me wrong. It wasn't that long ago that I was a teenager myself, I was only twenty three- But I suppose I just had an old soul, I should have been born in a different era because in no way could I understand teenagers now a days. Not only did kids seem to be maturing way too fast, but they were rude and obnoxious and sometimes just plain mean. Bullying was getting to be more popular than Justin Bieber, or whatever prepubescent singer or boy band seemed to be "in" now a days. Basically, I didn't like them. And I tried to avoid them at all cost. The type of person I was, weird and quiet, provided the perfect amount of ammo for those brats to toss jokes at me. Or maybe it was just I had horrible experiences as a teenager. I guess I couldn't judge all of them.

But at least Mindy wasn't that way. Although I was pretty sure that she did poke fun at me behind my back. Let's face facts, everyone does that whether they'll admit it or not.

I got to cleaning, mopping down the floors and washing the counter and dishes. And after stacking the chairs on top of the tables, I took a glance at Mindy- Who hadn't taken her nose off her i-phone for the last half hour and said.

"I'm going home. See ya Thursday."

She muttered something incoherent and I grabbed my purse and jacket and darted out before she could object to locking up.

I started down the street, and luckily the rain decided to stop for the moment. Puddles and mud littered the sidewalks which were in desperate need of repair. This street in town was one of the less frequented, so the pot-holes and destroyed sidewalks never got the attention they deserved.

It was nearing five I guessed, which meant that the Chinese takeout place below my apartment would just be starting in with making dinner. The smell alone was enough to make someones stomach grumble, and seeing is that I lived on nothing but top ramen and tap water, cheap Chinese food was like a rare delicacy. Sometimes the old man who owned the place would take pity on me and give me a few left over egg-rolls. But this night I intended to actually buy my dinner.

I had lifted the cash out of the tip car while Mindy wasn't looking. Seeing is that she had proven yet again to be completely and utterly _worthless _I didn't feel much guilt about it. After pulling the bills out of my pocket I crinkled up my nose in disgust.

"Fifteen bucks. Cheapskates."

It seemed getting a decent tip was impossible now, people were getting cheaper and cheaper by the second. They didn't bother with actually tipping the ones making their beloved caffeine filled beverages, they just wanted to drink them and be on their way. But at least they gave enough for me to buy some chow-mein and kung-pao chicken.

That thought though was short-lived when I stopped across the street from the take out place and noticed a long line inside. My stomach twisted into knots at the site of it. Crowds scared the heck out of me, standing in lines made me nervous. I hated having dozens of people standing behind me. It made me anxious, made me feel like someone was gonna jam a knife in my back, or were maybe staring at my butt and laughing at me.

There went that idea. I suppose another dinner of top ramen was in store for me again.

I darted across the street and up the creaking stairs to the second level of the building where my apartment waited. After unlocking the door and stepping inside, I let out a sigh.

Now came the routine of locking my seven deadbolts. I could still remember the looks the locksmith gave me when he saw the amount of locks I wanted installed. One or two locks in the city was normal, but seven was obviously brought on by sheer paranoia and insanity.

My apartment was small and luckily very cheap, because the majority of the time I was home I kept every single light and tv on. My electric bill was through the roof, but having the lights on somehow put me at ease.

In all truthfulness I hated my apartment. It was small, old, and there was a strange smell that wouldn't go away no matter how many times I doused it in bleach and antibacterial cleaner. Rotten eggs wasn't exactly a very pleasant smell. The floors creaked with every step, and every vehicle that drove passed rattled the windows. But, it was my home and I tried my best to make it feel that way.

When I first moved in I painted every room, as so advised by my shrink. No dark colors, all bright and airy- And whatever furniture I decided to decorate with had to be the same. Bright colors, so my shrink believed, would lift your spirits while dark ones would only lead to depression and eventually you slitting your wrists in your bathtub. Well, maybe she didn't use those exact words, but you get the point.

After tossing my jacket over the futon, I flicked on every light and went through the process of inspecting the windows making sure they were still securely locked. During the cold months I even went as far as to nail them shut. Fire hazard maybe? Yeah probably, I would burn to death before I could even get a window open or unlocked my seven deadbolts.

Once that was over and done with I stepped into the bathroom and flicked that light on, being momentarily startled by my own reflection. This was the part of my therapy that I found most ridiculous. My shrink wanted me to stand in front of a mirror at the end of each day, smile and say something positive. Needless to say doing that not only made me feel like an idiot, but it was impossible to find anything positive to blurt out.

My reflection made me cringe. I suppose you could consider me "pretty", but it was blatantly obvious by my untamed waves, which I kept in a ponytail almost 24/7, and my clothing choices that I never made any attempts at improving my appearance. My eyes though seemed to receive the most compliments, even if I wasn't wearing makeup. They were hazel, with flecks of bright greens and aquas mixed around in random areas around my iris. My skin was pale, due to never getting any sun and my hair a medium brown. I wasn't tall, average I reckon. Five foot five and one hundred and thirty pounds. That might have been considered a whale to girls now a days, but to me I considered myself normal.

"Positive. Think of something positive." I said, as I grinned at my reflection like an idiot. It strained my facial muscles to the point of my cheeks aching.

"I didn't kill anyone today." I stated, obviously sarcastically. "I didn't lose my temper with a customer and I didn't want to strangle Mindy."

Not that I had ever attempted it in the past, or killed anyone in the past- Although I would be lying if I said the thought of pushing a few unruly customers in front of a bus hadn't crossed my mind every now and then. But of course I wouldn't do something like that.

I very much doubted this is the sort of happy and positive thoughts my shrink wanted me to express. But she wasn't there and it was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment. I turned away from my reflection, changed into my sweats and flopped down on my futon deciding against dinner and instead watching old re-runs of Friends. Before long, I eventually fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thanks for the followers and fav's. It was surprising actually. Ok, so a little info about this story. It's obviously supposed to be set during season 5 when Lucifer's out of his cage, but I'm not going to be following the shows plot to the exact. And there's also going to be third person views along with Kate's first person._**

* * *

All three men stared up at the second level of the building just above the Chinese restaurant. Sam was on his laptop, tapping into the wi-fi from the closest building, conducting his usual bit of research on the monster in question.

"Are you sure about this, Cas?" Dean asked. "You sure that she's the right girl?"

"Of course." Cas replied, wondering why the brothers had questioned his accuracy. "It's definitely her."

"Call me crazy, but you hear Lucifer's got a kid out there you'd think it'd be somethin a little more terrifying than her." Dean went on, shaking his head. "Hell, the poor kid looked downright scared shitless when I talked to her. Not exactly what I pictured Lucifer's daughter to act like."

"Maybe she could sense who you were?" Sam suggested, not taking his eyes from the laptop. "Maybe she knew you were a hunter?"

"I find that highly improbable." Cas said. "She completely vanished after she was born."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Disappeared into the system. But, from what I could find she was adopted at three months old, her adoptive Dad was killed when she was eight, and her Mom died a couple years back."

"How was her old man killed?" Dean asked.

"Uh," Sam shrugged, while clicking around on his laptop. "Just said that he was killed overseas on a business trip. An accident by the looks of it."

"It wasn't an accident." Cas replied. "Chances are demons tortured him for information on her whereabouts, and then killed him."

"So," Sam closed his laptop after a sigh. "What are we gonna do about this girl?"

"What'd you mean?" Dean snorted. "We gank her, just like we would any monster."

"She's the Nephilim offspring of Lucifer," Cas added. "Which means she's very dangerous and not to be underestimated."

"But you said so yourself, Dean, that she seemed normal enough. She wasn't raised as Lucifer's daughter, she was raised normally, which means she has no idea what she really is. How fair would it be to stick an angel blade in her chest knowing that?" Sam said.

"Is this gonna be another one of those 'They can make the right choice' deals?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Like with that kid Jesse?"

"Yeah, Dean, it is." Sam snapped back. "Because we're not gonna go and kill that girl unless she gives us a reason to."

"Normally I'd be all for that, Sammy." Dean sighed. "But knowing who her Dad is... Gotta say I'm a little hesitant this time. For all we know she could be fakin the whole timid innocent crap and turn right around and peel our faces off."

"Or she really is innocent and we kill a girl that doesn't deserve it."

Dean glanced back to Cas who had gone silent. "Ok, fine. What do you suggest?"

"Just give it a little more time, more than one day. Let's watch her, like we would any supposed monster in question. And after, if she does something stupid... Then we'll kill her. Ok?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond when they saw movement from the building.

"Show time." Dean said, firing up the engine of the Impala.

They watched as Kate descended the stairs from her apartment, pausing only momentarily to fasten up her jacket before warily scanning the area, then starting down the sidewalk.

"Keep your distance." Sam said. "She's the type that would notice she's being followed.

"No shit." Dean snapped back, cranking the car into drive and pulling away from the curb. "Ok, so. What confuses me about all this is Lucifer had been locked in the cage for centuries, how could he have had a kid being locked down like that?"

Cas let out a gruff sigh before shaking his head. "An incident twenty four years back, it was the fault of one foolish angel. To make a long story short, Lucifer somehow managed to coax a follower into bringing him Kate's Mother."

"So, wait-" Sam snorted. "He had a woman brought to him in the cage?"

"Yes. He had plans for this child, obviously. What we aren't certain- But after the woman was impregnated, the plan was for the child to be raised by Lucifer's followers-"

"Demons." Dean interrupted.

"Exactly. But, this woman didn't cooperate with the plan and instead placed her child up for adoption. Much like Jesse, she was lost to them so she hasn't had the proper training in how to use her abilities. But that doesn't mean she's not a danger. She's the equivalent to a ticking time bomb. There's no way of knowing when she might explode."

All three men went silent as they watched the girl walking quickly down the sidewalk, trying her best to avoid eye contact with anyone around her. She didn't so much as peel her eyes off the ground.

"Ok, so say she's not evil," Sam went on. "Say she really is just a normal girl, one that wants to live her own life and not cause trouble... Would you be able to help her out with controlling her abilities?"

Castiel's eyes squinted. "Possibly. But that doesn't mean she would cooperate. And there's always the issue that Lucifer and his followers are looking for her as well."

"Let's not make any decisions yet until we've scoped her out." Dean finished. "And what the hell... Is that a shrinks office?"

He pulled to a stop a half block away from the building Kate had entered, and sure enough it was a psychiatrists office.

"Girl's got issues," Dean sighed. "Noticed that from the get go yesterday when I tried to talk to her."

Sam glared at him, his eyes narrowed. "If you were the daughter of Satan wouldn't _you _have issues too, Dean?"

"Yeah I guess. But she don't know she's his daughter, so what's her deal?" Dean replied. Sam didn't respond and only continued with the dagger eyes. "Ok, well- I'm goin in. Wait here you two."

He jumped out and jogged up the sidewalk, entering the building and finding a chair in a secluded corner where he wouldn't be noticed.

* * *

"So, tell me how your days have been, Kate." The Doctor in front of me said.

I shifted uncomfortably on the brown leather sofa. I hated this sofa it would creak and squeak with every gentle movement. And it was uncomfortable, the cushions dipped in and smashed from hundreds of butts sitting on them everyday.

"The same as always." I answered, not looking my Doctor in the eye.

Doctor Evans was middle aged- Her face pulled tight from several face lifts and botox injections. Her fake blonde hair did little to hide the gray roots that jutted out of her flaky scalp like an eyesore. Her thin wire glasses were pushed up the bridge of her carefully sculpted nose and her lips puffed out so swollen it looked as if she'd been punched. In the right light she looked eerily similar to catfish.

"How's the job been? You've been working there for what's it been? Six months?"

"About that."

"And how do you like it?"

"I hate it."

Doctor Evans paused for a moment to jot something down in her notepad, after which checking her voice recorder. To my dismay she recorded every single session and I was convinced she would play them to her friends behind my back.

I hated her office. It was brightly lit with florescent bulbs and there was a large picture window behind her desk. On every wall was either a finger painting or drawing from one of her patients. She normally specialized in the psychology of children. Dying plants sat in every corner with dried up leaves falling to the cheap linoleum floors. A box of tissues sat next to the sofa for the particularly emotional patient. Judging by the amount of wadded up tissues in the trash can, she obviously had a few criers.

It was a hassle coming here every two weeks but it was required in order that I still receive my disability checks deposited.

"Have you been keeping a dream journal like I said?" Doctor Evans asked.

I replied by pulling it out of my purse and waving it in the air.

"I don't know why I bother. It's always the same thing over and over again. Why do I have to keep writing it down?"

"Because it stems deeper than just dreams, Kate. These dreams are a part of your subconscious, brought on by actual events."

I felt myself snort at that.

"Right." I reached into my pocket and brought out my cigarettes. "Because in real life I'm constantly being chased by monsters that want to eat me."

"In the dream world what seems to be one thing is often caused from another. Being chased by monsters or creatures that want to eat you is your minds way of saying that you want to run away from responsibility, that you want to continue being isolated. Running away from the monsters is your minds way of saying you don't want anyone in your life." Doctor Evans stopped, sitting up straight in her chair. "You know you aren't allowed to smoke in here."

"Well I think for one hundred and fifty bucks an hour I should be the one to judge whether or not I smoke in here."

Judging by her cold hard expression, I don't think she appreciated that much. But, her face always looked like that- It was stiff and pulled so tightly I didn't think she could even smile normally.

"Tell me about the nightmares." The doctor prodded, forgetting about the smoke. "Did you have one last night?"

"I have one every night. If you read that stupid dream journal you insist I keep then you would know that."

"Well tell me about this one. What happened in it?"

I rolled my eyes, blowing out a puff of smoke in her direction. Second hand smoke is a killer you know?

"The same thing as usual. The city is empty, and I'm alone on the streets. Newspaper and garbage are blowing around me like tumbleweeds in an old western movie. Something starts chasing me, I can't see what it is. Before long I've run out of the city and end up in a large yard."

"Was the mansion there this time too?"

"Yeah, the mansion was there."

She sat back in her chair, looking totally engrossed like I was reading aloud from a book.

"Describe the mansion."

Thinking for a moment, I tried to remember every single detail.

"Bland gray stone walls, white pillars, arched gables and stained glass windows. There was a fountain out front that looked old and cracked, like it hadn't been used in years."

"And there were no people? No one lived in this mansion?"

My attention averted to a small spider crawling up the wall beside me, for a moment I wished I was that spider to avoid this conversation.

"I don't know if there was anyone living in it. By the time I reach the front door and try to open it, I wake up."

"And the monster, or whatever was chasing you, was gone?"

"No, it was still there. I could sense it around me, as if it was telling me to go inside, like it wanted me to be there."

She began to jot more down into her notepad.

"And nothing else about this dream was unusual?"

"Everything is, the fact that the city was empty and I was all alone. A monster or ghost chasing me." I paused, taking another drag from my smoke. "But this mansion seems to be the main focus of the entire nightmare. Whenever I see it, I feel like I've been there. At least, in the dream. It seems familiar to me. Like maybe I had seen it or lived in it in the past."

"But in the waking world, you've never been to this mansion?"

"No. I've never seen it before. Only in the dream does it feel familiar."

Doctor Evans opened her laptop and began punching down buttons roughly.

"I'm going to prescribe you something to help you sleep. Something that might help with the nightmares. The anxiety medication you're on, Klonopin, is known for causing disturbing and quite often frightening nightmares."

"I don't want anymore meds." I retorted. "The klonopin does absolutely nothing. Just as the paxil, the zoloft, the xanax. Nothing has helped."

"The reason for that is because you haven't realized what is causing the anxiety in the first place. You are reluctant to talk about your past. The longer you hold your secrets in the more your anxiety will grow."

"I've told you everything about my past. Where I grew up, my family. My childhood, everything."

"But there is something that you _aren't _telling me. Your anxiety and p.t.s.d has to stem from something, Kate. It doesn't just appear for no reason." She stopped clicking on her laptop and stared at me. "You said so yourself there is a period in your life that you've completely blocked out. From the age of four to seven you have absolutely no memories."

"Yeah, so? That's not that strange. Some people don't remember much from their childhood."

"That's true. But, if that's the case then those people don't remember _anything _from their childhood, not just bits and pieces. Chunks aren't just erased from a persons memory for no reason at all. Are you sure there was no traumatic event during that time that might have made you repress memories?"

"If there was, and you think I've repressed it, then how would I remember?"

Doctor Evans sighed, she somehow managed to not lose her patience with me, which was a trying feat indeed. I brought out the rage in people usually.

"Have you reconsidered hypnosis? I know you said you thought it was a fraud but maybe it would be worth thinking about."

"If I repressed something and completely blocked out several years of my childhood, what makes you think I want some lunatic hypnotist drudging it back up? If I blocked it out then it must have been something bad."

"Exactly. Which is why you need to remember, so you can finally work your way past it. There have been cases of child abuse victims with repressed memories being hypnotized and then going on to have a full recovery. Holding things in, refusing to acknowledge or speak of it is only going to cause more problems, or in your case- Anxiety."

I tapped my fingernails on the arm of the couch, flicking the ashes of my cigarette in a potted plant on the table. She showed her disdain by my action with a twitch of her stiff eyebrow.

"I don't believe in hypnotism." I replied.

"Studies have shown that it's a very effective form of therapy and treatment."

"Well hooray for studies, but I don't want to do it. No, if I've repressed something that was _that _bad, then I don't want to remember it."

"So you want to continue on in your life living this way? Avoiding all social situations, having no friends, living alone and paranoid for the rest of your life?"

"If I could magically make it go away then I would." I tried my best not to cry. The one thing I hated most was showing weakness, especially in front of her. "But there isn't anything that will make it go away. You know, I've been reading up on what you claim I have and it says that it can be inherited, passed down. Maybe one of my relatives had it and I got it from them?"

"Possibly. But that doesn't explain the p.t.s.d. That _can't _be inherited. That comes from some sort of event in ones life that the mind doesn't want to process. Like war veterans for instance. Even after years of being out of combat they still hear gunshots, helicopters, they still see their comrades being blown up or dying. They can still hear the screams."

"But I don't have those problems? I don't hear or see things that aren't there..."

"Do you still have seven deadbolts on your door? Do you still prop a chair up under the doorknob?"

My body instantly went stiff.

"Well, yeah."

"And what reason is it that you do that? Seven locks is a little excessive don't you think? Who do you think is going to get you?"

There really was no answer to that question- One that wouldn't make me sound like a lunatic anyhow.

"I don't know. I just feel like I need them is all."

"And do you still not go out after dark? Do you still insist on taking the morning to evening shifts so you can avoid walking alone at night?"

My jaw clenched tight. If it wasn't illegal to punch your shrinks face in I would have done it by now.

"I do that because I live in the city. There are rapists and purse snatchers, even you have to admit that a woman walking home alone at night isn't safe."

"This isn't New York, or L.A. This is a small town with a very low crime rate."

"But there is the occasional robbery or murder."

Doctor Evans nodded.

"That's true, but you have to think logically, Kate. Try to tell yourself that the chances of that happening to you aren't very likely. You have more of a possibility dying in a car crash, or drowning in your own bathtub, then you do being murdered."

"I don't want to talk about that anymore. It's ridiculous. I'm sure I'm not the only woman that doesn't like walking alone after dark, or that might have a lot of deadbolts."

The Doctor sat back in her chair, flicking her pen against the desk.

"All right. Then let's talk about something else. Your family. Are you still not in contact with any of your surviving family?"

After rolling my eyes, I resorted to snuffing out my cigarette in the potted plant.

"My family doesn't want to have anything to do with me. I'm considered the outcast or black sheep. I'm the freak you know? I have mental problems and my Aunt's and Uncle's don't want their children around me. Freaks _eat _children you know?"

"So you think they consider you a freak?"

"How else would you explain it? The last time I saw any of them, which was at my Mother's funeral, everyone whispered and pointed at me. Not one person came up and gave me a hug or to say they were sorry. Even my Mother's sister refused to acknowledge me."

"And you truly believe that it's because they think you're a freak?"

"I have no other explanation."

She jotted something else down in her notepad. Chances were that she did that just to make it look like she was actually taking notes. I halfway expected her to be doodling little smiley faces and sun shines on that paper.

"Did you bring the childhood photos that I asked for?"

I nodded, pulling a small stack of them from my purse which were held together by a rubber band. After lying them on the Doctors desk I flopped back down on the sofa. I had to wait a moment while she flipped through them, smiling at a few and then setting them aside.

"Tell me about these photos." She said.

Standing again and leaning over the desk I took a quick glance. One was from Halloween when I was twelve, one of the last times I ever went trick or treating. I was dressed as a pirate, another was from Christmas when I was ten, the third a birthday party when I was eight.

"What about them?"

"You look very happy in these pictures."

"Well I guess I was."

She pointed to the birthday photo.

"How old were you there?"

It was an embarrassing picture. I had on a bright green birthday hat, and my Mom had fixed my hair in pigtails. There was a goofy grin on my face exposing my recently lost two front teeth.

"Eight. I remember it because my Grandpa bought me a barbie, which was something I had been wanting for a while."

"And this one?" She pointed to the Christmas photo.

This one wasn't so bad. It showed my cousins and I seated around the Christmas tree taring open gifts in an ecstatic craze.

"That was the last Christmas before my Dad died. All of the family came and stayed the night, we had a huge breakfast of pancakes and waffles. My cousins fought over who got to open their presents first."

"Do you remember what you unwrapped?"

I sat back down, bringing out another cigarette. Talking about happy family past moments always depressed me, mainly because they never ever happened anymore. After lighting up my second smoke and taking a few drags I answered.

"A sweater from my Grandma, it had a sailboat with pink sails. A violin from my Uncle Peter, drawing pencils from my Mother, and a necklace from my Father."

"Your Grandpa didn't get you anything?"

"Yeah..." I paused, thinking about him. "He always gave the grand kids money for Christmas. When we were really young, it was always five dollars, but since I hit ten he gave me ten."

"What about this Halloween photo?"

It was the most embarrassing of the three she picked out. My costume was bought off of a discount shelf at the last second, and it was obviously meant for a boy. If it wasn't for my long hair I probably would have been mistaken for a boy.

"I was twelve. I wanted to go dressed as an angel but my Mom insisted I be a pirate."

"Any details about that day?"

"It was normal. We went trick or treating with my cousins and a few of my cousins friends from school. Afterwards we came home and ate the candy and watched an old Alfred Hitchcock movie."

"Which movie?"

"Psycho." Yeah, that fit in perfectly with the conversation.

The doctor flipped through the rest of the pictures, then stacked them back replacing the rubber band.

"You seem to have a very good memory, Kate. You remember fine details from childhood that most wouldn't. The fact that you remembered the sweater your grandmother gave you had pink sails is quite impressive for being so young at the time."

"What's your point?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk.

"My point is is that you have a very good memory. Someone like that wouldn't just forget years in their lifetime. Proving to me all the more that something traumatic happened that you've repressed."

"I thought we were off that subject."

"No, Kate. If you're going to continue to come to me for help then I will always bring that back up. Because I think that once you tackle that issue, you can begin your recovery."

I put out my cigarette again before standing and grabbing the stack of pictures. After shoving them back in my purse I started for the door.

"It's been an hour. I guess I'll see you in another two weeks."

The Doctor stood and followed me.

"I hope you think about what I said, Kate. Hypnosis might seem a little drastic, but it could actually end up helping you."

"I'll think about it."

I left the office, closing the door behind me. Once I was in the bland gray hallway lined with ugly cheap striped carpet, my tension finally began to ease. It was always the same thing when I would visit my shrink. The same conversations, repressed memories, nightmares, my childhood. And each visit seemed to be getting more and more mundane and redundant. We weren't accomplishing anything and the only thing my Doctor seemed to want to do was prescribe me more medication that did no good.

Not that it mattered, whatever meds she gave me usually sat in my bathroom cabinet unopened. Very rarely did I ever pop a pill.

Tying my jacket closed I headed down that bland hallway, emerging in the reception area. Several patients waited to be seen, the usual ones I always ran into once leaving Doctor Evans. Since this was a small town, she really was the only psychiatrist to talk to, unless you wanted to drive thirty miles to the next city. Which I couldn't do. I didn't have a car, or even have a drivers license. Which meant that I made do with walking or biking if the weather permitted it.

"Excuse me, Ms. Kaine?" The receptionist said quietly, holding her hand over a phone receiver. "We need to discuss your bill before you go."

I groaned, pushing my way past an older man who stood with a cane waiting to be signed in.

"What about it. I paid when I got in?" I whispered back. You had to be quiet in this building, there were a lot of people with shot nerves.

"I realize that. But we've changed our policies, and you have to co-pay for your next visit."

"I have to pay another one fifty for an appointment _two weeks _from now?"

"That's right. Would you like to write a check, or use your debit card?"

"Neither." I replied, my face flushed red. "I don't have the money to co-pay."

The woman sighed, she clicked around on a computer after putting the caller on hold.

"If you have insurance..."

"I don't."

"But you _are _on disability correct?"

My face burned even hotter red. It was bad enough knowing myself that I had to resort to being on disability, I didn't want the entire fucking building to know it too.

"Yes, I am. What about it?"

"Normally there is a healthcare plan that comes along with it."

"I've reached my limit. I have a limit you know, and since this place scams people of their money, I don't have any left to co-pay. Just cancel my appointment two weeks from now."

"Are you sure about that? Doctor Evans is insistent that..."

"I don't care. Just cancel it."

The woman clicked around again before giving me a lopsided smile. She was one of those fake "happy" people- The ones that always had a cheerful smile but behind that smile you could tell they were condemning you to death.

"Alright it's canceled. If you change your mind you can always call back."

I said nothing more and stomped from the office. I was through with these ridiculous evaluations anyhow. Somehow I was going to have to find another therapist to talk to, either that or give up on my disability income. But if I did that then that would mean taking on a full time job, and the coffee house could only provide part time. Actually having to go through the agony of another job interview and explaining to anyone my issues and why I couldn't do certain things was like torture, and I would rather fling myself off the nearest bridge.

But I wasn't going to think about that right now, I just wanted to get home

Thankfully for the moment it wasn't raining since I had ran out of my apartment without grabbing an umbrella. But I wasn't halfway down the street when voices started shouting.

"Excuse me! Miss!"

There couldn't have been anyone actually shouting at me. Other than Joan and Mindy, there wasn't anyone in this town that I actually knew. But when I heard my name being called out several times over, I skidded to a stop.

"Kate!" The voice continued to yelp.

Swinging around quickly I saw someone jogging towards me. First instincts were to take off running screaming like a lunatic but I was standing outside my shrinks office, that would only ensure my ass being tossed into the looney bin. By the time the man finally reached me I noticed it was Dean, the guy from the day before- The one who had bummed a cigarette off of me and attempted a conversation which I so coldly ignored.

He stopped before me, out of breath.

"Oh...Hi." I managed to say, wishing that I had a weapon right about then. There was no telling if this guy was a criminal or what his intentions happened to be.

I felt myself bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, ready to bolt at the first strange movement he made.

"Sorry to run up on you like that." He said, trying to catch his breath. "But I heard you in the Doctors office. Trust me, I wasn't spying- I just happened to overhear. But I heard you say you couldn't co-pay for your next visit."

"Yeah?"

He gave a slight smile, perhaps to calm my nerves.

"Well my cousin happens to be a therapist. So I've heard he's pretty good, and cheap. And he actually makes house calls. If you want, I could give you his number?"

This was most unusual, and all I could do was blink a few times over. I didn't even remember seeing him in the waiting area. And he wasn't someone that could easily go unnoticed. There weren't many guys in this town with such a shady disposition.

"Uh. Sure." I replied, with my ever so intelligent words.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a faded brown leather wallet. After rummaging through it for a moment he let out a happy "Ah Ha" and pulled out a crumpled card, then handed it to me.

"Sorry, it's been in there a while."

Giving it a quick glance I saw the name "Doctor Henry Monroe" printed there. It didn't seem to be a very professional business card and looked to have been printed up on someones home computer.

"Thanks." I said, stuffing it in my pocket.

"No problem." He smiled and went silent, as if he expected me to speak. Naturally no such thing happened. "So, do you want to grab a coffee, or maybe some lunch?"

For a moment I thought my ears were ringing as I stood there flabbergasted. In no way possible could it have been this guy was asking me out, right? I mean, couldn't he tell that I was strange? It didn't take someone but a few seconds to notice there was something off about me. He couldn't have been interested in me, no one ever was. The last guy that showed some kind of interest had given up after I had ignored his blatant staring at the coffee house.

"I, uhh..." Was the only thing that croaked out of my mouth.

"If not, it's no problem. Maybe another time?"

My voice seemed to disappear. There was obviously something very wrong with this guy if he even for one second wanted to spend time with me.

"Well. I guess." I finally said, surprised after those words came out. It felt as though someone entered my body and forced them out without my consent.

He smiled and started walking and I awkwardly followed a few steps behind him wary of where he could be leading me. When we rounded the corner and stopped at a local burger joint, at least I knew he didn't intend to murder me... Yet.

He took a seat at an outside table while I moved to the opposite side. For what felt like the most uncomfortable five minutes of my life we sat there in awkward silence until he finally sat up and began asking me the usual first date questions. Where was I from, how old I was, did I go to college, and last but not least did I have a boyfriend.

Maybe I was somewhat lacking in the dating department seeing is that I hadn't had a boyfriend since I was sixteen, but it seemed as though someone of our age wouldn't ask questions like that. Although I wasn't sure what I should expect. Like I said, my last boyfriend was when I was sixteen and that felt like ages ago.

He was my Mom's best friends son, the only kid I knew my age since I was home-schooled. We were sort of pushed together, having no other options. We really had nothing in common, he was one of those surfer type guys even though we lived no where near an ocean. He died the tips of his hair blonde and always wore polo shirts. We dated a year before I had finally had enough and broke it off. It was a relief to be rid of him actually. And if it meant dating someone like that again I think I would prefer to remain alone forever.

As my thoughts wandered Dean continued to blabber about his own life. Apparently he worked at his Uncles body shop learning how to rebuild diesel truck engines. He still lived at home with his parents and his hobbies were eating pie and kickboxing on the weekends. Judging by his fit frame I could tell he had to be good at it, and good at self defense.

By the time he finally stopped talking I think I knew every tiny detail about his life. Where he grew up, siblings, his relationship with his parents. Everything. This man liked to talk no doubts and if the waitress hadn't of showed up to take our orders he probably would have just kept going.

"So, what about you?" He asked, sitting back to sip on coke.

"What about me?" I sipped at my own drink, opting for a coke too instead of the healthier choice of water.

"What are your hobbies? What do you like to do?"

There really wasn't anything I liked, but I couldn't tell him that. I was dull enough as it was and telling him that I had no hobbies and laid around like a blob when I wasn't at work would definitely lower his opinion of me. But really, did it matter?

"Reading I suppose. I used to paint and draw as a teenager but I sort of gave that up."

"Really, how come?"

I tried not to show my annoyance on my face. I had just come from being prodded and grilled by my shrink, I didn't want anymore questions.

"It wasn't anything I was interested in. I was forced into by my Mom. She figured I would become this great artist and sell paintings in a gallery or something."

He nodded at that.

"I see. My parents wanted me to become a physical therapist. But sometimes you have to do what your parents don't _want _you to do."

"So is rebuilding engines your lifelong dream?" After hearing that question I realized how bitchy it sounded, but he didn't seem to be offended by it.

"Well for the moment I guess. It's decent work and the pay is good. It's not what I pictured I would be doin as a kid, but it'll suffice."

"At least you know if you're ever broke down on the side of the road you won't be stranded."

He smiled at that, and I found myself staring dumbly at it. Luckily though that was interrupted when the waitress returned with our food.

My eyes fell onto the plate and I chewed my lip in anticipation. I was starving, but one of my many annoying quirks was being completely uncomfortable with eating in front of people. I managed to take a few small bites though, chewing nearly one hundred times over. Dean didn't seem to have a problem and began scarfing down his food like a starving animal. He was halfway through his burger when he stopped and looked up at me.

"Is your food ok?"

"Hm?" I pretended not to hear him. "Oh yeah it's fine. I'm just not very hungry is all."

Which was a lie, my stomach was trying its best to gnaw itself free from the inside.

Either he was being polite or he actually believed me because he inhaled the rest of his food, practically scraping the plate clean before pushing it away.

"So I know you're probably sitting there thinkin I'm some freak that randomly asked you out. But I promise that this isn't something that I do very often." He said.

Now I found that very hard to believe. One might not look at someone with suspicious disposition and think he would be lucky with the ladies, but he was actually pretty cute. And there was a softness to his eyes that I think could have reeled any woman in. Chances were he had a long line of girlfriends at his disposal. He seemed like he could be the player type but I wasn't exactly the best judge of character. I saw almost everyone as an enemy or someone to avoid. Which is why I had nothing to do with my surviving family members, and had no friends or social contact with anyone really.

"Do you think I could get your number?" He added, confusing me all the more.

I almost choked on my french fries, convinced that after I had been so rude to him it would send him screaming down the street to get away from me.

"Uh, sure." I grabbed an old receipt from my purse and jotted down my number then slid it across the table to him.

He took it before the wind could blow it away, examined it for a moment then folded it neatly and stuffed it in his pocket.

When our bill came I tried my best to pay my own share but he wouldn't let me. He lied a wad of cash down on the table, using a glass to weigh it down, and actually left a pretty generous tip.

"Can I walk you home?"

This day couldn't get anymore strange. Why this stranger had taken an interest in me was seriously making me question _his _sanity. No one liked me. No one even liked being _around _me. Why did he?

"I suppose so." I answered.

We left the restaurant behind and walked slowly down the sidewalk. Cars whizzed passed, bikers that liked to ride the country roads rolled by, other pedestrians walking provided me the perfect amount of objects to keep my eyes on, other than the man walking beside me.

This moment to me was more awkward than having to deal with dozens of strangers at the coffee house. There, at least they would do their business and be out the door within minutes. This time, the focus was solely on me and nothing else, which made for an uncomfortable situation. I was beginning to regret ever keeping my Doctors appointment that morning. But, if Doctor Evans had any say over the matter, she would encourage it. I had been living as a recluse ever since my Mother died two years ago, and once her life insurance policy ran out it forced me to actually find other means of paying bills. Which just so happened to be disability and finally the coffee house job. Basically I had no friends and my family was all estranged, living in a different state. Doctor Evans would be tickled pink if she knew a guy actually had some sort of interest in me.

Doctor Evans always told me to think positively, to look on the brighter side of things rather than the dark. If you saw or spoke to a person try to look at them as a potential friend, not a masked villain wanting to strangle or harm you. Yeah she would definitely encourage this moment.

When we reached the Chinese restaurant where my apartment waited, Dean turned and gave half a smile.

"Well, this was nice. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

And that, I figured, was a definite brush off. I wasn't stupid, even though I might have been a bad judge of character I could still read people and I always knew when someone did _not _like me. Dean couldn't have. I barely spoke and when I did my words barked out aggressively.

"Sure." I replied, what was the point of calling him out on it? It would just lead to further embarrassment.

"I'll call you." He added, patting his pocket where my number lied. "Maybe tomorrow or the day after next?"

"Well..." I stopped, no. For once I was going to take my shrinks advice. Instead of pushing him away I would agree to whatever he said. Even if he had no intention what so ever of ever speaking to me again, I could at least pretend I was interested. "I work on Thursday, so."

"Ah." He cleared his throat and took a glance at his phone which he pulled from his pocket. Which I could tell he was looking at the calender. "Well, since Thursday's no good, how about Friday?"

"That's fine. I'm not busy." I was never busy, but he didn't need to know that.

"Right. Well, I'll talk to you later, Kate." He gave a slight wave before turning and walking down the street.

For some reason I couldn't help but to watch him go, there was an heir about his stride that spewed confidence, but not to the point of making him seem cocky or arrogant. Basically he didn't seem to have a care in the world and for a moment I couldn't help but wonder what that was like.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well it's official, the chick's definitely hiding something." Dean said, as he climbed back into the Impala. "Refuses to make eye contact, answers questions with very little words or details. And, the clincher, she wasn't even that into me. You gotta know there's something wrong with her now."

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Dude, you're an idiot. Maybe she's just shy? Did you ever consider that? It could explain the no eye contact, or not speaking very much."

"Anyways," Dean went on. "I gave her one of our cards, so be expecting a call."

"Wanna give me a heads up as to what card you gave her?" Sam retorted.

"Therapist, she had some issues in there with co-paying or some crap. Seems like she's gonna be needing a new head shrinker. Figured that could be you." He smirked sarcastically. "Just give her the puppy dog eyes, maybe she'll tell you more than she did me."

Sam nodded. "Ok, and what are we gonna do in the mean time? There's no guarantee that she'll call."

"Just keep watchin her I guess. I'll keep charming her. Maybe check out her apartment while she's working."

"I think I want to take a little trip to her therapists tonight after closing, read through her files and see what the Doctor has to say about her." Sam stared up at the second level where Kate's apartment was located. "There's gotta be some kind of information on her. I'm not ready to conclude that she's hiding something just because she didn't immediately strip off her clothes at the site of you, Dean."

Dean eyed his brother carefully- He definitely recognized that look on Sam's face. He'd seen it more often than not lately. Already Sam was feeling as though he could relate with this girl. A girl born with something dark inside of her, through no fault of her own- Him desperately wanting her to make the right decisions and be _good_. He didn't want to have to kill her because in a way it would be like killing himself, or, admitting to himself that he very well might slip up again and not be considered "good" either.

That was the only reason why Dean hadn't ganked the girl already, was because of Sam.

* * *

The machine was making noises again, and as the repair man tried his best to fix whatever problem it was, it left me no choice but to try and calm the line of customers down. Luckily though, there wasn't many that evening. Only five, and just my luck the evil orange woman was _not _one of them.

"How much longer, Wade?" Joan asked, she had taken time out of her busy shopping schedule to actually come to her business and inspect the workers.

"Not sure, Ma'am." He answered through a toothpick he always held in his teeth. "This thing is about shot."

"I told you." Joan's son stated as a matter of fact. "Told you this thing was a piece of shit that needed to be thrown out."

"Maybe you can just buy a new one?" Mindy offered, taking a moment from texting to observe. "I mean, well. It would be good for business right?"

Joan ignored the girls comments. She said on numerous occasions that she wasn't sure why she hired the twit- But she figured having a pretty fresh face behind the counter would draw in a younger crowd. I suppose that meant I was the hideous ogre that would bring in the monsters and mutants?

"It might come down to that." Wade said, fiddling with his tool belt. "It'll cost less in the end to buy a brand new machine than to have me come in here every other week to fix it."

Joan barely heard him, her cell rang blaring a very annoying boy band ringtone throughout the building. I always figured the woman was having a midlife crisis by the way she dressed, but hearing that horrible ringtone just proved it.

"I have to take this call." She announced. "Gavin, will you please handle this?"

Her son barely grunted a response. He was too busy ogling the young teenager who was texting.

After I successfully managed to persuade three of the customers to settle with a cup of instant coffee instead of waiting for their latte's or expressos, or whatever caffeine filled garbage they usually drank, the remainder of the crowd eventually left with nothing.

"Do you think I could get off early today?" Mindy asked, making sure to flirt with the owners son.

It was disgusting really, he was practically thirty, married and had two kids yet he didn't bother to hide the fact that he had a thing for young girls. Luckily Mindy wasn't jail bait, I thought.

"I don't see why not." Gavin answered, winking at the girl. "Since the machine is caput, well... What's the point in staying?"

"Thank you." She smiled, sliding herself off a bar stool. "Kate, are you leaving early too?"

"Might as well. Nothing is keeping me here."

"Well we do need someone to clean and lock up?" Gavin might have had a thing for young pretty girls, but he didn't exactly like my strange attitude. I didn't have the luxury of being eye candy to this pervert, not that I really minded much.

"Oh, well that sucks." Mindy giggled, heading for the door. "I'll see ya tomorrow."

She left before Joan could return and shout at her.

I sat down at one of the empty tables, waiting until the repair man left so I could get to cleaning. I really hated doing it with eyes watching, figuring everyone scrutinized everything I did. At least with working alone I could concentrate and not have to worry about eyes watching me.

Once Wade announced there was nothing more he could do, and after joking the best option would be to put the thing down, he gathered his tools and took off. Joan returned from the back a short time later, cursing up and down that she would have to buy a new machine. Gavin followed her out the door, mentioning something about grabbing dinner together. When they were gone, I finally slid out from behind the table and got to work.

Being alone in the coffee shop cleaning was what I preferred most. There was a part of me that was a little o.c.d when it came to cleaning. I would spend an hour scrubbing one tiny spot if it meant making the place perfect. That was something I didn't bother mentioning to my shrink, it would only make her want to jam more pills down my throat.

The coffee shop was located in a pretty old building that was built in the early 1900's. From what I had heard it had been several things throughout the years. In the beginning, a general store, then a bait and tackle shop, a pharmacy in the fifties and eventually a dentist office. I suppose the place had a lot of character. It still had all the original woodwork and crown molding. And after a few times making coffee and other beverages the musty smell had been soaked into the walls was eventually replaced by the coffee. Being a sucker for old things and antiques, I actually relished the moments I was alone because it gave me the time to sit and admire the place. But, that was interrupted when I heard the bell above the door jingle.

"Sorry, the machine is broken." I called out.

"That's fine." A gruff voice replied.

I turned, noticing it was a man. One I hadn't seen enter the coffee house before. He was middle aged, wearing a black suit. At first site he looked like some kind of hit-man, or mobster- But that was probably just my over active and paranoid imagination getting the better of me.

"I'll just take a cup of tea." He said, sitting down on one of the bar stools. "If that's manageable?"

"Should be." I replied, moving to the back where an electric tea kettle sat. Not many people asked for tea anymore. "Would that be for here or to go?"

"For here." He answered. "Maybe add one of those scones or muffins."

"Sure."

I poured the hot water into a bland white cup with the shops logo painted on the side. After throwing in a teabag and sliding the cup to him, I lifted the lid on the muffin case and scaled over them.

"Any particular flavor?"

"Strawberry might be nice."

Good choice. I just so happened to be fond of that flavor because it was one of the pastries I would sneak into my purse before heading home for the day.

I grabbed a pair of tongs and scaled over them finally prying the last strawberry scone free and placing it on a plastic plate. We were required to dust it with powdered sugar, to make it seem more "elegant." So after finishing with that I lid the plate across to him and went back to cleaning. I could feel his eyes burning on the back of me, enough so that I was suddenly very self conscious of my backside.

"So I don't remember ever seeing you here before." He stated and only then did I notice his accent, from what I could tell it was English.

"Well I've only been working here for six months."

I hated when customers would try and carry on conversations with me- Especially since it was apparent I was trying to clean up. But I couldn't be rude. The tip jar was depressingly empty today, what little there was Mindy had snatched up at the start of the morning before I could get to it first. So, I was hoping that this man would be kind enough to slip in a five or ten.

"I like this town. It's nice and quiet. Perfect for a get away." He continued. "I've been renting that old Victorian on Oak street. Know it?"

I shook my head, keeping my eyes focused on the floor which I was sweeping.

"No, sorry. I haven't lived in this town very long and haven't familiarized myself with all of the streets and buildings."

"I see." The man took a bite of the scone, successfully squirting strawberry jelly out onto the counter. "Where did you live previously?"

I stopped with sweeping long enough to brush a strand of hair that fell down from my pony tail- My eyes fell directly onto the counter I had just cleaned, which was now stained with sticky red goo.

"You probably wouldn't have heard of it. It was a small town in Indiana."

"And how did you find your way all the way to Washington state?"

"After my Mother died I wanted a change of scenery. Washington had always appealed to me, so..." I left it at that, hoping it would be enough of an explanation.

"I'm sorry to hear about your Mother."

That was always a touchy subject so I only nodded in response.

"Oh, that will be six fifty for the tea and scone." I said.

To my surprise he pulled out a twenty, winked at me and said.

"Keep the change, love."

For some reason that made me want to giggle like a school girl. Not only did I get a halfway decent tip for doing very little, but the way he called me 'love' was fascinating. It was just like the movies.

"Thanks." I muttered, giving him a smile after he did. It wasn't very often that I would actually give someone a sincere smile that wasn't forced, but this time I did.

I pocketed the change and yet again went back to cleaning. The way I figured if no other customers would come in, and the man that was already here finished up, I could be locked up and out of here within the next half hour. But yet again the bell above the door jingled.

"The machine is broken." I repeated again.

"I didn't come here for coffee." Was the reply.

Recognizing the voice I, and the man at the bar, turned to see who walked in. It was Dean, although judging by the menacing look I could just barely make out from under the dim lights it was a little hard to tell for certain. The man at the bar, still chewing on his scone gave a crooked smile.

"Dean- I figured you might show up."

"What are you doing here, Crowley?" His voice was lower than usual, and it was usually low enough already.

He popped the last bite of pastry in his mouth and dusted his hands on a handkerchief from his suit pocket.

"I was just having a spot of tea and chatting to the lovely young lady." He answered.

Dean moved closer, sitting down on the stool beside the man. He didn't even look at me and instead kept his eyes fixed on the stranger. Had his eyes been able to shoot fire, I'm sure they would have right at that moment.

"Well, looks like you're done. Maybe you should be on your way?" Dean's hand inched to his inner jacket pocket, but I wasn't sure for what reason.

I watched the scene in front of me in not only confusion, but a little bit of fear. It was reminding me very much of an old western. A cowboy or outlaw causing trouble, spouting off threats and giving death stares while stating. "This town ain't big enough for the two of us" Then a gunfight would start. Why did I expect that to actually happen?

The man, whose name apparently was Crowley, continued to smile, then finished off his tea and scooted his cup aside.

"Well, thank you, Miss." He said, nodding to me. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."

The only thing I did was watch him leave, he eventually disappeared around the side of the building. Once he was out of site I washed the counter again, cleaning up the jelly he left behind.

"Sorry about that." Dean finally spoke. "That guy... He's, well he's kind of an asshole."

"He seemed nice to me."

"He's kind of my families enemy. If you can even call it that now a days. He screwed my Dad over a few years back, we've never really gotten along since."

I didn't care, there was nothing about his family squabbles that interested me.

"What are you doing here anyways, I'm about to close up?" I asked.

"Yeah, sorry. I was just passing by and thought I'd stop in and say Hey."

I stopped and stared at him. Normally he looked shady, but this time he looked downright scary.

"Well... Hey." I replied sarcastically. No I really did not care for that little scene just now, it made me uncomfortable, even more so than usual.

"Since you're getting off early do you think you wanna do something? Maybe see a movie, or..."

"I don't really like movie theaters." I barked back. "They're always so crowded and full of obnoxious teenagers that don't know how to shut up."

He had a nice laugh, which was something I wanted to kick myself over for actually thinking.

"Well you might be right. Have you had lunch?"

"I'm not really hungry, sorry."

He just didn't seem to get the hint, either that or he was too stubborn to give up. Either way I didn't know what to make of him. Someone that seemed as disinterested as I did usually didn't have a problem with scaring people away.

"Ok. Well how about you pick somethin then? I'm game to anything."

Tossing the dirty dish rag aside, I knew Doctor Evans wouldn't want me to dismiss him so quickly. She would want me to take advantage of this situation. Allowing someone in was progress and could lead to "recovery".

"I'm actually a very boring person, Dean. I was just planning on going home and lazing in front of the tv."

"That'll work." He jumped up from the stool.

A frown creased my face- In no way what so ever was that an invitation. I didn't want him in my apartment, I barely knew this guy. He might have seemed nice so far but we were out in public, there was no telling what he might try had we been alone in my home.

"Well, it's not exactly the best time for me to have company over. I haven't cleaned and the apartment is a total dump."

"That's ok. You should see my place, it's a disaster. You'd probably find live animals living in my piles of dirty laundry."

Ugh. This just was not working and it was becoming apparent that I was going to have to be more direct with him. He just wasn't catching the hint.

"Listen, Dean. I'm sure you're a really nice guy, but I think it would be best if you just went on your way. Trust me, it's for your own good."

He gave a little smirk

"I think I should be the judge of what's for my own good, Kate. I don't know what you think I want from you, but really- All I want is to be your friend."

Typical line. I had heard it before, of course not spoken directly to _me_, but other people, or... Characters on tv. They always claimed they wanted to just be friends but that was just a front. In the end they always had something else in mind.

"Just friends, huh?" My expression alone would be enough to tell him I thought he was full of horse shit.

"That's right."

I moved from behind the counter and started stacking the chairs on the table. He helped with a few of them before finally heading for the door.

"Guess I'll head on home tonight." He announced. "I'll call ya."

My bitter expression was the last thing he saw before leaving the coffee house. Jeez, he was harder to get rid of than a cockroach.


	4. Chapter 4

A couple days passed that I didn't hear from Dean. And then another few days went by. He didn't stop by the coffee shop, he didn't randomly appear as I was out, he didn't even call. So I figured that he had finally gotten the hint and decided that it was better for his own sanity to just give up on someone like me. Yet again, I was basking in the solitude that I had grown to love over the years.

But, being rid of Dean hadn't yet solved all of my problems. There was still the lingering issue of what I was going to do about speaking to a therapist. It hadn't been two weeks, but by law I was supposed to see a shrink every two weeks to be evaluated for my disability income. I suppose the government wanted to make sure I was still a loon and qualifying for their minimal and really quite pathetic check they sent me each month. Since I had hastily cancelled my appointment with Doctor Evans I was pretty much left without any other options. I couldn't go back to her, I couldn't take her questions and her judgemental stares. But actually having to start fresh with another therapist wasn't exactly appealing to me either.

I stood in my small kitchen staring at the business card Dean had given me. The name Henry Monroe bolded out in red letters seemed to keep me in a daze. With my phone in the other hand my thumb hovered over the call button- I had dialed the number and now the only thing I could do was stand there contemplating whether or not I would call.

Finally I pushed the button, putting it on speaker. It rang three times before someone picked up.

"Good morning, Doctor Monroe's office?" A man said.

My throat instantly went dry. Making phone calls was just as hard as carrying on conversations face to face.

"Uh, hi. A friend of mine gave me your card. He told me that the Doctor made house calls?"

"Yes, Ma'am he certainly does. Would you like to schedule an appointment?"

"Possibly, but could I get a little information first?"

There was a few seconds of silence.

"Of course. What would you like to know?"

Sitting on my counter top was a list of questions I had written down before hand. As I stated making phone calls was just as difficult as talking to someone out in public, but at least with being on the phone whomever I was speaking to wouldn't be able to know that I had jotted down an almost script beforehand to keep me from getting jumbled.

"Well I needed to know the cost first and foremost." I started, trying not to seem too obvious that I was reading. "How much will it cost for a house visit?"

"Well normally if it's a first time visit he voids out a charge. But additional visits varies on your annual income."

My eyebrow twitched slightly at that. This was a first.

"And if I'm on disability, could you give me a price range?"

"Certainly." I heard clicking as the man typed on a computer. "Normally, if it's a case where the patient is disabled and unable to work, or has a low income. He'll charge fifty dollars per visit. But prices can be negotiated if that's too high."

Tapping my fingernails on the counter top, it was still unclear to me whether or not this was a good idea.

"How soon would he be able to see me? I'm supposed to speak to a therapist and be evaluated every two weeks in order to still receive my disability checks."

"I understand, Ma'am. Let me check his schedule." I heard more typing again. "You're in luck. If you would like, he could stop by today at around five. Does that work for you?"

Glancing at the clock I noticed that was only twenty minutes from now. Which gave me little time to mentally prepare for his arrival.

"I suppose that works." I answered, not exactly thrilled with the thought.

Normally it would take hours worth of sitting and letting the thought sink in before I was able to actually accomplish something. Even in the mornings before I would go to work I had to set my alarm an hour before leaving just so I could get through the panic attacks and nausea.

"Great. I see by your phone call that your number is 555-5471, can I get your name and address?"

I went through the pain of giving my information and within ten minutes the entire conversation was over and done with. Which meant, in twenty minutes, if he actually showed up on time- He would be on my doorstep. So I rushed about my apartment picking up anything that might have been on the floor, but normally I kept my place as spotless as possible. Like I said, I figured to have o.c.d along with my many many other problems so keeping my house spotless was something I strived upon.

Unfortunately that strange smell still lingered in the air. I swore that I had scrubbed every inch of my apartment from top to bottom more than five times a week and that smell just wouldn't go away. I had to resort to dousing the place in air freshener and by the time I finished I was pretty sure the entire apartment smelled like a giant flower garden full of lilacs.

I still had ten minutes before the Doctor was to show up- And if I learned anything from my visits with dozens of shrinks over the years I needed to at least make myself presentable. If I opened the door and he saw me dressed in sweats with my hair a disaster it might make him more open to believing I was one of those crazy people you see on tv. You know the ones with frizzed out hair that walk around twitching and mumbling things to themselves? _Appearing _to be normal was the only thing I could do, even if I firmly believed that normal was the farthest thing I could possibly be.

By the time I smoothed out my hair with a flat iron I froze at hearing a knock at the door. The dogs in the apartment above mine began to bark, they would bark at almost anything. A truck driving by, kids on the streets, the wind blowing. They were yippy little Pomeranians that never shut up.

Peaking out of the bathroom, I stared at the door. And past the pulled down blind I could see the silhouette of a man.

There was another knock, only this one was slightly more loud which made the dogs above go even more crazy.

"Just a minute." I called out, trying to compose myself.

This was the first time anyone would have been in my apartment. This place, as awful as it might have been was my safety net, my sanctuary. It was what successfully hid me away from the world outside and allowing anyone in was almost as terrifying as facing a crowded room by myself.

By the time I managed to work my way to the door and unlock the seven deadbolts, I figured the Doctor would have been getting pretty irritated.

Opening the door slightly, I peaked out and saw a tall man dressed in a dark suit. His long sandy hair was brushed back away from his face and he didn't seem to be old enough to be a doctor- He couldn't have been over twenty five, which made me wonder if he had just recently graduated and the reason why he was so cheap was because he was just getting started.

"Hello." He said, flashing a smile. "Are you Katherine Kaine?"

I nodded in answer.

"Yes. Sorry I took so long, come on in." I warily opened the door, instantly feeling very invaded at allowing this stranger inside.

He stepped in and I noticed he carried a briefcase. And since I could get a better look at him his suit was clearly cheap and everything about him seemed to be rugged and not all fitting the image of a therapist. He was pretty good looking, but there was absolutely no resemblance what so ever between him and his cousin Dean. Which I guess, wasn't that unusual.

It was after a minute of standing there awkwardly before I snapped back to my senses.

"Uh, would you like to sit down? Or want something to drink?"

"No thank you, Kate. At least about the drink." He walked gracefully to the futon and took a seat, lying his briefcase at his feet. "Why don't you take a seat as well and we can get started.

I moved to the only other piece of furniture in my living room, which was a small armchair I had brought with me from Indiana. It had sat in my Mother's living room for nearly fifteen years so no doubts it was hideous and in good need of reupholstering. The faded red stripe material was practically worn down to the stuffing on the armrests, and I tried my best to cover over the hideous thing with a knitted throw that was my Grandmas.

He was silent for a moment before bringing his briefcase to his lap, snapped it open and pulled out an i-pad.

"Ok." He said. "I know this must be uncomfortable. Most house calls are. So let's just start with the basics for now, ok?"

I nodded, pulling a throw pillow onto my lap and hugging it tightly.

"You told my receptionist that you're required to speak to a therapist for evaluation every two weeks in order to continue gaining disability income. Is that right?"

I nodded again.

"Alright, let's talk about that. What reason does a young lady like yourself have to be on disability?"

This was the part I was dreading. Having to explain that I had an unnatural fear of people, that being in public around anyone whether it be one person, or ten- Was like torture. I had paranoid tendencies worrying that anyone and everyone was out to get me and my sleep was riddled with strange nightmares.

After blurting all of that out in one breath I watched as he tapped on his i-pad.

"Ok. And what did your previous therapist diagnose it as?"

"She claimed I had social phobia and p.t.s.d."

He raised both brows after hearing that, almost as if he was skeptical.

"What did the p.t.s.d come from?"

"I don't know. That was something we talked about the last time. She seems to think I have repressed memories of some traumatic event in my childhood."

"That could be possible, but for now let's talk about the unnatural fear, as you called it."

"Well... What about it?"

He looked at me and gave a kind smile.

"You're twenty three, how long have you been living with this type of fear?"

This was humiliating, a girl my age should have been out with her friends every night having fun and living a normal life.

"I don't know. For as long as I can remember I guess. I always knew I wasn't normal."

"Describe normal. What's your version of normal?"

My eyes rolled at that question.

"Normal is someone that can leave their house without having a panic attack. Normal is a person that can hold a decent job, have friends, and not want to stay locked in their apartment all day, _every _day."

He tapped some more on his i-pad, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was jotting down.

"So you said it's been happening for as long as you can remember. Try to think back, as far as you can, to the very moment where you realized you weren't normal."

Thinking back that far wasn't exactly easy. While I never considered myself to be a normal child, those memories were much happier than the life I was leading now.

"I guess it would be around the time my dad died. I guess exactly after he died. I was ten."

"And what was it about that defining moment that made you conclude that you weren't normal?"

"Because after he died." I said, clenching my pillow tighter. "For some reason hearing about it didn't upset me. I mean sure, a kid hears about their parent dying and they're going to be upset, and I should have been. But I never really felt any sadness."

"Why? What reason could that be?"

These questions were annoying. Why did I have to go through this crap every two weeks just to get a measly little check? More than that, if it absolutely was required of me why couldn't it be done over the phone where I could carefully write down a script and read aloud from that instead of having to actually form words on my own in front of him?

"I guess because he was never really around. He was always away on business. When he died he wasn't even in this country, he went overseas. It had something to do with a pharmaceutical company, but any details my Mom never spoke of."

"So you don't know how he died?"

"It was an accident. That was all my Mom would say. Just a horrible accident. I don't know if it was a car crash, if he fell off a building, or was run over. I don't know the details, she would never talk about it."

He nodded a few times, taking all of that in.

"So do you think it's possible that maybe you _are _normal, and the reason why you didn't feel any grief when your Father died was because he wasn't around?"

"Sure, that could be it. But that doesn't explain my want to avoid people and having to rely on disability at the age of twenty three in order to survive. Normal people my age have gone or are _in _college, getting degrees and making something of themselves."

He lied his i-pad aside.

"Tell me about your childhood. What was it like?"

"Boring. My Mom was a paranoid person and liked to keep me isolated. I was home schooled so I never had any friends growing up. Whenever I would go outside she would follow me, and would never even letting me ride my bike down the street on my own. Which was strange, because the town I grew up in was really small- Not even eight hundred people."

"So maybe it's possible that it was your Mothers actions that prompted your fear? Being isolated your entire childhood and not allowed to function as a normal little girl you were stunted as far as being able to cope in society. You witnessed her paranoia or fear, and after a while acquired it yourself?"

Sighing, this was so tiring. My eyes fell up towards the ceiling and the horrible stains in the dirty white paint.

"That was something I figured, but my previous therapist was convinced that all of my fear came from something else. She figured my nightmares were clues telling what that might have been."

He crossed one leg over the other, his black shoes looked just as cheap as the suit. Everything about him was inexpensive which made sense he if only charged fifty bucks a visit.

"Ok, let's talk about the nightmares then. What are they like?"

Grabbing my pack of cigarettes, I lit one up just as I always did when I was nervous.

"As I told her, they never make any sense. I'm always being chased by something I can't see and led to a mansion in the middle of the country."

"Hm." Was his reply. "And it's always the same? There's never any details that change about the nightmares?"

"Yeah, sometimes whatever is chasing me catches me. He tries to eat me and then I wake up."

He grabbed his i-pad again and punched around for a moment, then shoved it back in his briefcase.

"Well as I'm sure your previous therapist might have told you, sometimes dreams can be interpreted as something else. Being chased usually is your minds way of saying you're trying to cope with your actual fears. Your anxiety for instance."

"She said that. But she also seems to think that it's caused from repressed memories."

"And what exactly makes her believe that there's some repressed memories?"

I lied my cigarette in an ashtray beside me.

"Because there are certain years of my life that I can't remember. From the age of four to seven I have absolutely no memories. It's as if someone went in there and erased them. They just vanished."

"So it's like a blank space, up until four you have some memories, and then again after age seven?"

"Right. But between it's just darkness."

"And what was your Doctors way of trying to work past that?"

I flopped the other direction in my chair trying to avoid the Doctors penetrating eyes.

"At first she wanted me to do self meditation and draw the memories back, claiming that a relaxed mind and body would be more willing to open up and allow things through. After I told her that didn't work, she wanted to move on to being hypnotized."

"And you didn't agree to that?"

"No way."

He chuckled, it was actually a very pleasant laugh. Low and quiet.

"I don't blame you. I'm not one that likes to rely on something that hasn't exactly been recognized as a true form of treatment. But let me ask you this." He leaned forward. "Have you closed your eyes and thought back as far as you can, up until you hit that darkness as you called it. The blank space. Have you ever tried to bust through that darkness and see what's past it?"

I swallowed a knot that suddenly formed in my throat.

"I have, but... Every time I do a strange feeling shoots through me. It's like my mind is warning me not to go there, that whatever is in that blank space isn't something I want to see. My head hurts, my ears ring. So, I try my best not to think about it."

"I see." He sat back, thinking. "Well my suggestion is until your mind is ready to open up and spill those secrets, I wouldn't try to pry into it. Because it might do more harm than good."

"That's what I thought." Suddenly I felt like cheering. "But Doctor Evans was so insistent that I bring those memories back, she thought it would be what could lead to my recovering."

"Well I happen to disagree. Prying into memories that your mind is clearly not ready to process could lead to a complete emotional breakdown. If you were to go by my suggestion, Kate- I would just stick with what you're doing. Keep working, keep pushing yourself to leave your apartment. Try talking to people, attempt to make a few friends somehow. I know for someone with your disability it might seem impossible, but I've worked with several people with social phobias and once you set it into your mind that you can do it- You'd be surprised what happens."

This was the only time after a session with a therapist that I didn't feel like a complete lunatic.

"I'll try."

He nodded, standing from the couch and grabbing his briefcase.

"This should be enough time for our first visit, Kate. I don't want to overwhelm you. If you want to meet again, just call and make another appointment." He held out his hand waiting for me to take it. "I really think that I can help you."

Normally I wouldn't shake someones hands. I was sort of a germaphobe, but didn't want to seem rude and did it anyhow. After a quick shake he started for the door.

"Have a good day, Kate."

I said a quiet goodbye and watched the doctor descend the creaking stairs. When he got into an older black chevy, I finally closed the door and locked the deadbolts.

* * *

Once Sam pulled to a stop in front of the motel he had already loosened his tie and removed his suit jacket. Dean met him outside and jumped in the passenger seat.

"How'd it go?" He asked.

Sam let out a rattled sigh. "She's... She's definitely got some kind of emotional trauma in her past. From what she said, she's got repressed memories. Several years that are just gone..." He paused and shook his head. "Who the hell knows what happened during those years."

"She coulda been lying?" Dean offered.

"No," Sam was adamant. "Definitely not lying, and I don't think she's hiding anything either. She's scared, Dean. Scared enough that her apartment door has seven deadbolts on it, and her windows are nailed shut."

"What the..." Dean's brows squished together. "So she's trying to keep somethin out, obviously."

"Yeah, and I smelled sulfur in her apartment. Which means demons have been in there recently."

"Considering Crowley's already tracked her down that's not that hard to believe. Ok, what do we do now?"

"We need to get to her before Crowley does, Lucifer too obviously. We have to help her, Dean. She doesn't know anything about what she really is."

Dean sat back in his seat, letting his eyes trail off into the parking lot of the motel. "So we just nab her? Can't friggin bust into an apartment with seven dead bolts, can't grab her when she's at work. She never walks after dark and never goes anywhere but the coffee shop and her apartment. Not to mention she's a time bomb, according to Cas, she could blow the second we go after her. So, what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know. But we can't leave her there, not with knowing there's already been demons in her apartment. Since they know who she is, that might be why they haven't tried to kidnap her, they're probably afraid she'll nuke them." He arched his brows. "Explains why Crowley went into the coffee shop and tried to give off the illusion he was a nice guy."

"Yeah," Dean grumbled. "Get her to trust him, then swoop in at the right time like some super hero, she'd probably go with him willingly after that."

Sam started the car again and they drove back to where Kate's apartment was located, parking across the street. For the moment until they came up with a solid plan, all they could do was continue to observe from afar.


	5. Chapter 5

Shopping, one of the many things that sent my heart fluttering and not in a good way. In fact it felt more like my heart was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. The only way I could actually manage going grocery shopping was if I resorted to a tiny little convenience mart with very little choices as far as food goes. So far the only items in my cart were packages of top ramen and a loaf of bread. Luckily this place was almost always empty and the old man behind the register barely spoke English so that meant small talk was never an option.

A shiver ran through me, this place was always so glum and cold. The air conditioner, even in the dead of winter was constantly blaring. And seeing is that autumn was slowly approaching, the last traces of summer fading away by each passing day, I couldn't understand how anyone could withstand such frigid temperatures.

After tugging on my coat, making sure it was securely closed, I pushed the cart on moving to the next aisle which was lined with brightly colored candy packages, jars of peanuts and other travel snacks. I went for a small bag of pretzels and tossed them into the cart.

That morning after speaking to Doctor Monroe- I actually felt somewhat uplifted, which was a rarity. After every session with my previous therapist I left feeling angry and depressed with no hope to the future. We never accomplished anything other than making me feel more worthless and pathetic than I had before I ever walked through the door. And she was so insistent on prescribing me more and more medication it made me wonder at times if the things I tried to confide in her actually went unheard. It was easier to simply give pills than actually tackle what was the actual problem.

But maybe this one will be different, I thought. Maybe this one can actually help me.

But I knew better than to get my hopes up. Since the age of ten my Mother had me in and out of different therapists offices, so many that I had actually lost count of them all. No one really seemed to understand what was causing my problems and were too concerned with earning their fees, rather than actually helping in some way. Somehow, I got the distinct feeling that money was the last thing on Doctor Monroe's mind. Maybe he was one of the very seldom few Doctors that actually cared about the welfare of their patients?

Turning down the final aisle in this tiny store, I bent over to grab a twelve pack of coke when my pocket began to vibrate.

A text? No one ever texted me, ever. Not even my boss Joan for emergencies. I lied the cokes in my cart before pulling out my phone.

It was coming from an unknown number, but at reading the actual words I instantly arched a brow.

_Hey, Kate. It's Dean. You busy?_

Stuffing the phone back in my pocket I headed for the cashier. Here I thought that going to so long without hearing a peep from the guy I had successfully dodged him. Apparently though I was wrong.

There were two people standing ahead of me in line- An old woman buying a pack of adult diapers, and a teenage boy who carried an armful of candy and other snacks. To pass the time as I waited I read the covers of a People magazine, Glamour and Elle. By the time I reached the register myself and began to lie my items on the counter, my pocket vibrated again.

The old man gave me a quick glance as he started scanning each item.

Yet again, my pocket vibrated. I was getting annoyed to the point I was ready to toss my phone in the nearest trash can and be done with it.

Pulling it out again, they were both from Dean.

_Sorry if you're busy. I was just wondering what you're up to. _Was the second message.

_I really need to talk to you. _Was the third.

For the second time I dropped my phone in my pocket, ignoring his messages, paid for my groceries and carried them outside.

It was starting to get dark, I was in there longer than I planned. The sun was just starting to fall below the buildings lining the streets which where now casting narrow and foreboding shadows over the sidewalks.

My pace was quick as I carried my two small bags, pushing past those who were still walking that evening. It was almost dark, I had to get home and inside my apartment before it was dark. Why? I wasn't sure, it was just a gut feeling. Something about the dark always had me on edge to the point of wanting to lash out and attack anyone that might have looked at me funny. I didn't like the thought of not being able to see what might have been behind me, or what could have been lurking in shadowed alleys. It was unnerving.

Waiting for cars to whiz past I finally saw the bright glowing lights of the Chinese take out place. Instantly my stomach began to untwist, my nerves dying down. I had successfully made it home unscathed. After darting across the street and running up the stairs, I lied my bags on the landing and fumbled about my purse digging for my keys.

When my fingers traced the cold metal I pulled them out with such hysteria that I practically flung them over my head and to the ground below before containing myself. Just as I was about to place the key in the lock I stopped, jerking back like a snake had bitten me.

My door was open.

A trickle of fear shot up and down my spine like pin prick needles. I was positive that I had closed the door when I left. Although, with it being such an old building sometimes the wood of the door swelled in the humidity making it nearly impossible to squeeze shut. It took using all of your body weight pulling on the knob to make sure it closed. Maybe that was what happened? Judging by the frizz to my hair and the stickiness outdoors I could practically feel the humidity oozing around me like slime.

The door wasn't opened fully, only a slight crack and every light was still on inside just as I left them.

I listened to the eerie silence, noticing the yippy rats upstairs weren't going crazy. If anyone whose scent they didn't recognize was anywhere near the second and third floors they would start barking. Judging by the silence, there couldn't have been anyone inside.

Letting out a deep breath, I shook my nerves away and picked up my bags. With my foot I tapped at the door noticing it stuck. I was right. It was the humidity. The door was open just a crack but closed just enough to get stuck in the door frame.

I used my backside to push it open, making sure once I was inside to use all my weight to force it closed again. I went through the annoyance of locking all the deadbolts before lying my groceries on the counter.

My pocket vibrated again.

"Jesus Christ, can you not take a hint?" I whispered to myself.

Ignoring it, I tossed my coat over the futon and started going through my bags, putting everything in their proper place in the cabinets before grabbing a coke and popping it open. After a few deep gulps my phone started to ring.

The coke was suddenly slammed down to the counter, sending fizzy droplets flying in every direction.

I didn't want it to come to this but apparently I was going to have to cuss the guy out in order to get him to leave me alone.

My hands fiddled around in my pockets until finding the right one and pulling the phone out and pushing the call accept button.

"Hello." I said. The tone to my voice should have told whoever was on the receiving end that I was not at all happy.

"Kate, finally. Fuck can't you answer your texts?" Dean said on the other end.

"What do you want?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home, why?"

I heard his breath catch in his throat.

"Ok. Listen to me very carefully." He started. "Look around you. Is anything out of place?"

For some unknown reason I felt my heart lurch to my throat.

"What?"

"Just do what I asked. Look around. Is anything in your apartment out of place, answer with a simple yes or no."

Well this was like something out of a horror movie, but I did as he said and let my eyes dart around my apartment. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary, my throw pillows were still strategically aligned with the windows, the side table catty-cornered perfectly with the hallway.

"Uh, no?"

He sounded almost relieved.

"Ok, now take a deep breath. Do you smell anything funny, a strong pungent odor? Answer again with a simple yes or no."

Other than the weird smell my apartment always had there was nothing else there. Well, the faint whiff of the air freshener I had doused the apartment in earlier still lingered.

"No. What the fuck is this about?"

I turned and started with fiddling with my groceries again.

"I know this is gonna sound strange, but you're just gonna have to trust me. I think someone's been in your apartment."

My hands froze, practically crushing the tiny bag of pretzels they held.

"What makes you think that?"

"Don't ask, you wouldn't believe me. But I think it would be best if you left, just to be safe."

"Right." I tossed the pretzels into the cabinet. "I barely know you, you call me up and start asking all of these weird questions and freak me out, and you expect me to just get up and leave? I don't know who you think you are but..."

My words cut off when I noticed something in the hallway. A picture, one of my favorite pictures of my grandparents that hanged on the wall was slightly crooked. To anyone else such a slight slant in the alignment would have gone unnoticed, but to someone like me who obsessed over every tiny detail of everything possible, I would have noticed that a long time ago.

"Wait a second." I said.

"What is it? A smell?"

"No."

"Then something moved in your apartment?"

"Yeah."

He cursed slightly.

"Ok, this is what you're gonna do. Repeat what I say exactly, understand?"

"Yeah."

Dean cleared his throat.

"Hey I'm going to have to call you back, I forgot something at the store."

I somehow managed to repeat his words exactly, albeit somewhat shaken. If there really was someone in my apartment then I doubted they would have fallen for such a blatant act.

"Ok, now hang up the phone, don't bother taking anything with you and get outside."

I hung up and took a moment to breathe. Other than the slight tilt to that one picture on the wall, everything in my apartment was in perfect condition. What if I was panicking for nothing? What if I happened to bump the picture with my shoulder as I passed it? Or maybe the old creaking floors that shook with every step made the picture tilt?

But just in case I didn't want to take that chance. I headed for the door, turning the deadbolts as quickly as I could. After only unlocking five of them I suddenly felt a presence behind me.

In that instant every fear or nightmare I ever had suddenly came rushing into the waking world- blossoming into fruition like some morbid joke to taunt me.

"Do not unlock the door. "A voice said from behind me.

My body froze, a horrible chill filled the area- Almost as if I had just stepped into a walk in freezer. Along with that blast of cold was a rancid smell. Rotten eggs, the same smell that my apartment always had only much much stronger.

"Turn around. Slowly." The voice commanded.

My hands were shaking to the point that even if I tried I didn't think I could ever ward off any form of attack. Having no choice but to obey I turned around seeing a large figure looming over me.

Whoever he was I had never seen him before. He had dark hair that gleamed a crimson red in the light. His face was smooth and tight, ageless, without a blemish or any other form of imperfection. He wore solid black from head to toe, and his hands were covered with leather gloves. All of that was scary enough itself, but what really made my heart race was seeing his eyes go completely black.

"W-Who are you?" I stuttered.

"Just do as I say," He replied. "And perhaps you can be spared."

"What do you want? There's money hidden under my mattress. Just take it and leave, please."

"I haven't come here for money."

Every horrid thought imaginable was shooting through my mind now. All of the horrible crime shows or movies I had seen flashed through my head like still pictures. I could just see myself being harmed somehow. Attacked, killed, my body left lying on the floor in a pool of blood and gore.

"Step away from the door. Move slowly." He commanded.

I did as he said, taking slow steps away from the door and closer to the entrance of the kitchen, but in no way was I going to stand there and do nothing while this intruder had his way with me. Even if I died trying I was going to fight back somehow.

Like a bolt of lightning I shot down the small hallway leading to the bedroom, my socks slipping on the chipped wood floors. Rounding the corner I knew he was right on my heels. This apartment was small, you'd take twenty steps and you were at the opposite side. I had no hopes of getting far ahead of him.

As I slid into my bedroom I grabbed hold of the door and tried my best to slam it shut, but the man shoved his arm through just in time to have it smashed. I expected a yelp, a sign that he was hurt but heard nothing. The door burst back open in my face.

I was tossed backwards from the harsh shove of the door, sliding on my backside until slamming into the wall behind me. A crash and shatter of glass danced around me as one of my Grandmothers vases fell from a shelf. The man descended on me like a deadly black cloud, and my first instincts were to scream for help but nothing would come out. Instead I opted for a shard of glass, slashing at him and nicking him across the cheek. A splatter of blood shot across my face and wall behind me, but he wasn't fazed.

I began tossing random items at him, books, nicknacks, a small alarm clock and finally my bedside table. He dodged every blow kicking the broken glass and fallen over table away. Having no where left to run I tried to scoot myself on my belly under my bed hoping to slither out from under the opposite side.

When I felt him grab my ankles and yank me back out finally a scream escaped my lips. It wasn't nearly as loud as I hoped it would be, I doubted anyone below or above would have heard it. Had they, the dogs upstairs would have been barking by now.

He had me pinned down now, and as I swatted at him wildly with my arms flailing the expression on his face never once changed. I couldn't tell if he was angry, but obviously he must have been. I had injured him after all.

I thumped around on the floor, trying to knock his massive form off of me but he weighed a ton. It felt like a brick wall and the more I struggled the more it ached my bones from his crushing weight. I was almost certain that he would smash me flat, which was unusual because he might have been tall, but he was also thin.

When he finally lucked out and grabbed my wrists, his grip tightened to the point I heard the bones snap. Instead of feeling pain I only panicked all the more. This man was freakishly strong, more than a normal man should have been.

He pushed my arms down at my side, holding them there.

"Stop squirming." He said, his voice not showing any signs of exertion. "This will be much easier if you just cooperate."

I finally stopped moving. There wasn't any point in trying to break free, he was straddling my stomach and pressing down on me with the weight of a mack truck I figured.

"What do you want from me?"

"No questions." He replied. "Just cooperate."

"With what?! What are you going to do with me?"

"It is not I that determines what's to be done with you. I am simply to deliver you."

So I was being abducted? And what, held for ransom? Good luck at actually getting any of my relatives to pay any damn money.

My phone started to ring from the kitchen counter. For a moment the mans attention averted to the sound as he glanced at the open bedroom door which was now halfway hanging off its hinges. The phone rang around six times before switching to voice mail. Once the silence filled the apartment I could practically hear the thumps of my own heartbeat.

The man seemed to sniff the air, almost like a dog would. His black eyes scaled every inch of the room.

A low growl came from his throat almost as if he saw something he didn't like. I glanced in every dark corner, seeing nothing.

Like a flash a bright light filled the room, and after hearing the sing of metal and another spray of blood against the wall the man above me let out a wail as what I could only describe looked like fire flashed through his face and eyes, before he fell to the floor dead.

For a moment I lied there stunned, wondering if I was imagining the entire thing. When I heard more footsteps approaching and another figure leaned over me, I started to panic once more.

"Calm down." It was Dean's voice. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?"

I tried to blink the haze from my eyes, sometime during the scuffle I must have hit my head which made everything in the room spin.

"What the hell happened?" Was the only thing I could ask.

A faint glimmer caught my eye as I realized that Dean held a strange looking knife in his hand. It looked ancient, almost like some sort of sacrificial dagger I had seen on display at a museum as a kid.

He took old of my arm and helped me up from the floor.

"Can you walk?"

I just barely nodded, unsure of what to make of this entire situation. I halfway expected to be waking up at any second and discovering it was another strange nightmare.

"I think so."

"You better come with me. More of em will probably be comin."

He barely gave me the chance to respond before pulling me from the bedroom and back into the hallway. We started for the door which he had obviously kicked in, seeing is that the door frame was a splintered mess.

"I need to bring things with me." I stated, feeling my head spin.

"There's no time for that, Kate. We gotta get out of here now."

He kicked what was left of my door aside, still dragging me with him. My bare feet slipped slightly on the mildew covered stairs, the last rain storm had left everything slick. I saw waiting on the side of the street was the same black chevy that Doctor Monroe had showed up in earlier that day.

He opened the passenger side door for me and I jumped inside, he then rounded the other side and jumped in the drivers seat. Within seconds he had the car started and we were jetting down the near empty street.

"Please tell me what the fuck just happened?!" I said, my stomach was suddenly spinning and I worried I might vomit all over the leather seats.

"Explaining to you right now what's happening would only make you wanna jump out of this moving car." He replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the rear view mirror as if he expected someone to be following us.

"I don't care! That man, his eyes were black, you killed him. Tell me what happened!"

"That wasn't a man." Was his reply, as he turned down a side road squalling the tires at such a sharp angle.

"What do you mean it wasn't a man? It certainly did look like one."

"But it wasn't. Listen, I could explain right now what he was but I think it would be better if we just got out of here."

"I'm not stopping you from driving, speaking isn't going to make us move any slower. And unless you start explaining what the hell just happened I really will jump out of this moving car."

He quickly reached across me and slammed the lock down, almost mocking me somehow. Like that would actually stop me, all I would have to do was unlock it and I could get out.

"Fine. But you aren't gonna believe me." He spat.

"Try me." I sat back, only then realizing I hadn't put my my seat belt. I quickly pulled it around me.

"Ok. That thing wasn't human."

I blinked a few times, waiting for more.

"What do you mean he wasn't human?"

"I mean he wasn't born in this world. He's a creature from somewhere else."

"A creature?"

"A demon." He finally said. "That guy was a demon."

"A demon?" I snorted. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe me, don't believe me, I don't really care. But it's the truth."

"What the hell... Why would a demon be after me?"

He gave me half a glance as he was now focusing on the road before us.

"You won't like the answer to that, Kate."

"Do you think I've liked anything you've said already?"

We both went silent as the sound of the pavement beneath the car provided a smooth yet unusually loud hum.

"Demons." He finally answered. "They're workin for someone more powerful, much much bigger then them. Their boss is the one that wanted you."

The word "demon" rang in my ears to the point of madness.

"Who is he?"

He didn't answer that.

"There's a lot of crap about this world that you don't know about. Things that you wouldn't be able to process right now."

"Well I think you should at least try to get me to understand. Because right at this moment I feel like I'm going insane. I don't know what just happened in my apartment, what that guy was or wanted. You said he was a demon working for some other powerful thing, but you didn't bother to explain why this guy wants me." I felt a shiver run through me, why wasn't I waking up? This nightmare was lasting much longer than the others. "What happened to him, when you stabbed him he looked like he was on fire from the inside."

He gave a quick glance at the rear view mirror before taking his right hand and reaching into his jacket. After pulling out the strange knife he lied it on the middle of the seat.

My eyes fixed on it, watching it as if it would suddenly jump at me and cut my throat. It's hilt was normal enough I guess. The blade itself was serrated and had some funky looking symbols etched on it.

"What is that?"

"A knife."

"Well I can clearly see that. But what kind of knife? It looks old... Ancient."

"That's because it is." He turned down another side road, one that eventually left town all together. "It's one of the only things that can get rid of a demon."

"You mean kill them?"

He nodded.

"They aren't easy to kill. Exorcising is usually your best bet. But yeah, it kills em."

"So you're saying that this isn't something new for you?"

"Nope."

I let out a deep breath and stared at the road ahead.

"That's not very comforting."

"Well you're lucky. I saved your ass didn't I?" He replied. "Did it speak to you? Did it say anything to you at all?"

The dark countryside whizzed by the car in a blur so fast I couldn't even make out trees or buildings.

"Not really, just that he wanted me to cooperate and he was going to deliver me to someone."

Dean didn't seem to be surprised at hearing that, seeing is that he already knew that.

"Who was he delivering me to? Do you know?"

"We'll talk about that later. Let's just get to the safe house ok?"

I wasn't sure if I should press the matter further even though there were a million questions I wanted to ask. But for the moment I had to at least try and trust Dean. After all, he had just saved my life. But even something like that wasn't enough to put my mind at ease when it came to him. Living everyday of your life in fear, thinking everyone was my enemy, there was no telling what his true intentions might have been.

"Why is it called a safe house?"

He kept his eyes on the road now since it was apparent there were no cars following us.

"Because we've got it warded against dick bags like that demon."

Dean's cell began to ring, he brought it out of his pocket and gave it half a glance before answering.

"Yeah?" I could hear a male voice on the other end but couldn't make out the words. "We were right. It was tonight." More voices. "We'll be there asap."

He hung up and dropped his phone back in his pocket as I stared at him dumbly expecting some kind of information. The phone call was about me, no doubt about it, it had to have been. But it seemed as though Dean had no intention of spilling any secrets.

I stared down at my lap, noticing my pants stained with blood from the man, or creature, that attacked me. Only then did I remember my wrists.

"Wait a second." I said, halfway to myself.

"What? What is it?"

Twisting my wrists, I didn't feel any pain at all.

"When he attacked me he crushed the bones in my wrist. I heard them snap. I know I wasn't imagining it."

"They've healed already." He replied quickly, slowing the car as he turned down a long narrow drive lined with trees.

"Healed? That's impossible."

"No it ain't."

I was certain my eyes were shooting daggers at him. Not only was he crazy but he was delusional too. Broken bones do not heal within a matter of seconds. Not even the most extreme of health nuts out there healed that quickly. It would have taken a miracle, or magic, for something like that to happen. And of course both of those were just ridiculous and made up- Like vampires, witches or werewolves.

My mind was telling me to panic, and under normal circumstances I would have been. But obviously the bump to the head was calming me down, either that or I truly was dreaming and all of this wasn't real.

Putting my attention back on the tree lined lane, eventually the faint glimmer of lights began to flicker through the leaves. When the car took another turn left, jutting off the main path and towards a brick house, I leaned up farther in my seat.

At first glance it appeared to be an old farm house. Probably built in the 1800's or even earlier than that. At a point in time it looked as if it had been painted white, but all but a few bricks still contained slivers of peeling paint. It definitely didn't fit the description of what I imagined to be a safe house, in fact- The roof looked like it would cave in at any second.

Despite that though, Dean pulled the car to a stop and got out. He moved around the side and opened my door.

For a moment I could only sit there, giving him the same sharp stares that I had been since leaving my apartment.

"Come on." He said, waving his hand.

"How do I know what's inside that house? How do I know that you aren't going to kill me in there?"

"If I was gonna kill you, Kate- Don't you think I would've done it by now?"

He had a point, plus if he wanted me dead so badly then he never would have stopped that creature from abducting me in the first place.

I finally stepped out of the car, shivering from a cold blast of damp air. The land surrounding the old farm house was open and lacking greenery. The only trees lined the path we drove up on. Off in the distance stood a dilapidated barn and what was left of a fence where horses or cows obviously used to graze. From where I stood I couldn't even see the lights of the city any longer. This part of the country side seemed so empty and baron since there weren't even any houses lining the road past the farm. It was like entering another time and place, a time where there was very little population and houses were spread out by miles.

Following Dean up the steps now, I peaked inside one of the windows and could see nothing but dusty lace curtains.

He knocked once and waited. It wasn't but a few seconds before the door swung open and Doctor Monroe peaked out at us.

"Finally." He said, allowing us entrance.

I could only give him the same lopsided stares that had stained my face since we pulled up to this farm.

"You?" I asked, confused.

He gave half a smile and said nothing as Dean walked into the house. Having no choice but to follow, I entered as well and the Doctor closed the door behind me.

Inside this room was practically void of furniture except for a few metal fold up chairs and an old dusty sofa. Past what should have been a dining room there was a table set up with a laptop open wide. On the screen it looked like some sort of weather radar which was blinking colors green and red. Off to the opposite side of the desk was a sofa with shredded cushions, where someone was clearly sleeping. It looked like an older man with a beard, but since it was so dark it was hard to tell.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked.

My supposed new Doctor opened a fold up chair and offered it to me and seeing is that I was still adorning bare feet I took it, positioning myself so that my feet were propped up on the bar between the legs to avoid splinters from the rough wood floors.

"Upstairs, uh... Talking to our friend." He answered

"Well I'm sure he knows we're here by now with his friggin superman hearing."

I tried to take in more of the old house. The walls held faded Victorian wallpaper, the colors in the past probably a golden yellow and pale green. Dirt smudged on nearly every inch of the walls, and there were cobwebs hanging in the corners. The windows were just as dirty, and the place smelled of mold and must. It didn't seem like anyone lived in this house for decades judging by its decrepit state. My eyes focused on dozens of weird symbols spray painted on the windows and doors, and just at the front door I walked through there was what looked like a pentagram spray painted on the floor.

Jeez, who the hell were these guys?

Old wooden chandeliers hanged from the ceiling of the dining area equally covered in cobwebs. Past that room was the kitchen, and since it was partially hidden by the doorway I could just barely make out dingy white cabinets with cracked counter tops.

Dean moved across into the room where the computer was and slammed it closed, then nudged the sleeping man

"What?" The older guy said, snorting awake.

"She's here." Was the response Dean gave.

The man flung himself upwards, before cracking his back. His eyes fell directly onto their new guest, _me_, and he didn't look at all happy.

"Well, damn." He said.

Dean seemed to shush him and he finally walked into the room I was in. His jeans were faded and torn, and past the scruffy beard was a trucker cap, a ratty t-shirt and button up. Even if he looked gruff his eyes seemed kind, just as Dean's did, and they certainly didn't seem deceitful.

He stopped in front of me and nodded slightly.

"Hello," He said, and to me it seemed like he was scared of me. "Name's Bobby."

I just barely nodded, muttering "Kate" under my breath.

Footsteps descended the stairs as a man with dark hair and a trench coat joined us. First thoughts were that he looked pissed off, and seeing is that there was blood splatter on his coat and hands, that might not have been a bad judgement call.

"He hasn't said anything," The trench coated man stated. "Although I'm not surprised." He then cast his blue eyes onto me, squinting them to practically closed. "Was there any difficulty at obtaining her, Dean?"

"Wow Cas, subtle." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Judging by the looks of her I would say there was some difficulty. Whose blood is that?"

"A demons." Deans' tone was deeper, more throaty, caused by annoyance.

"Uh, I think we need to start explaining things a little." Who I thought was my new Doctor said. "First thing's first, Kate- My name isn't Henry Monroe. It's Sam Winchester."

My brow arched. "Sam... Winchester?"

He smiled. "Yeah, sorry about the ruse, but we needed to..." He paused. "Well, make sure you were the right person."

Trench coat guys expression didn't change, but he did nod to Sam and Dean which caused them to step aside. Suddenly he pulled a matchbook from his pocket, lit it, and tossed it on the floor. Within a half a second a ring of fire suddenly surrounded me which caused me to jump off my chair.

"What the hell?!" I shrieked. "What are you doing?"

I gazed at each person, strangers to me, wanting to kick myself for ever getting into Dean's fucking car.

"Who are you people?" I asked, for the first time in my life actually able to form words around strangers.

"That's the difficult part." Trench coat said. "Trying to explain something to you that should have been explained ages ago."

"Listen." Sam ignored his statement. "This isn't gonna be easy. And I know you aren't gonna believe us, but all I ask is that you at least try... All right?"

I blinked a few times over, just as I always did when someone said something I didn't particularly like. My face was blank of emotion but I could feel my patience wearing thin. Not to mention that the fire was scaring the shit out of me.

"No, you listen." I replied. "My life was just fine until Dean showed up in it. Ever since I met him outside the coffee house something hasn't felt right. And now tonight you claim I was attacked by a fucking demon? And now you're trying to set me on fire?"

"Damn." Dean snickered. "There goes the timid."

"Shut up, Dean." Sam snapped. "Look, we're sorry about this. But, the fire's kind of for our own safety, Kate. We aren't sure if we can trust you."

"Excuse me?" I arched both brows. "Trust _me_? You're not the one stuck in the middle of a ring of fire!"

He nodded.

"Just bare with us, ok? We'll let you out after everything's been explained and some questions are answered."

My mouth was slightly agape, I wanted to cuss him out but his eyes had the capability of making your mind go soft. Well, I doubted these psychos were actually gonna let me out of here alive, but just in case I decided to cooperate and sat down again.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Kate." Dean finally said. "What do you know about your family? Your background?"

An unusual question considering the situation, but at least someone was actually speaking.

"Not much. I was adopted. I know that much."

"Adopted?"

"Yeah. When I was just a baby. My Mom was always very open about it. Other than that, I don't know anything. I'm sure my parents were given details during the adoption process but whatever they were they never spoke about it. I don't know anything about my birth parents."

Dean sighed, casting a glance to his trench coated buddy.

"Well then I guess we can start there. With your birth parents."

The expression on their faces wasn't what you would call calming. In fact, it was disturbing. Each one seemed to be dreading whatever it was Dean was going to say, like he was suddenly announcing that each had a fatal disease that would strike them down instantly.

"I guess there really is no way soften the blow." He hesitated, waiting for someone to object but no one did. "Your birth parents... Weren't exactly... Normal."

I wasn't impressed, in fact I felt very much like slapping him.

"What do you mean they weren't normal?"

"Your Father is an archangel." Trench coat suddenly chimed in, which caused Dean to curse at him.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Just spit it all out." Bobby said. "If you're gonna to tell her, then get it over with. Delaying ain't gonna make it any easier to accept."

Sam stepped forward and there was something about his face that was strangely boyish, despite how huge he was. How I didn't notice it before baffled me, but perhaps it was because I very rarely looked anyone in the eye. I never took the time to examine anyone closely enough to notice small details.

"What we're trying to tell you, Kate." Sam continued. "Is that you're not completely human, your Father's an archangel... To be specific... Lucifer."

"Rightttt," I nodded. "Yeah, obviously my Dad's the devil, sure. Why not.

"Unfortunately for you, Sam's correct." Trench coat said. "It explains why there was a demon in your home."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Castiel." Was his blank reply.

"And before he has a chance to say it, he's a frickin angel of the lord." Dean added.

I gaped at him with my eyes wide, normally I'd be inclined to believe that was a lie- But considering what happened tonight I didn't.

"And..." I spoke finally. "Just what exactly is happening?"

Sam only stared at me with hazel eyes that were so tame and calm it soothed me instantly. There was a certain kindness that emanated from them that said there was no way possible he could be a danger. It seemed at that moment was the only time I ever actually allowed myself to examine him.

"Kate." He said. "You're in danger, obviously. That demon in your apartment proves that. But it's not only that you're in danger- You could also be dangerous to others."

Yet again I let my eyes dart from person to person. Me? Dangerous?

"But... I don't get it?"

"Because Lucifer is your father," Castiel replied. "You're half angel, which means you have abilities that you need to learn to control."

I shook my head. "I don't have abilities? I'm starting to think you guys are crazy. But even if you were right that doesn't explain why demons would be after me and wanting to kill me."

Dean turned to a small table behind him and poured a shot of something.

"This is gonna take a while. You should get comfortable."


	6. Chapter 6

I was thankful that Sam was the one explaining everything to me. Unlike his brother he didn't have the ability to piss me off. But that didn't mean what I had just learned was anymore easy to tolerate. In fact, it sounded completely insane. Enough that I was very much so questioning these men's sanity. If I hadn't of been attacked by some black eyed freak in my apartment that night, chances were I would have found a way to bash their heads in and run fleeing like a lunatic.

I was the daughter of Lucifer. Technically I wasn't even completely human. According to Castiel I was what was considered a Nephilim. Half angel, half human, and something that was considered dangerous and scary as hell.

Why wasn't I waking up from this nightmare? How long was it going to last? How long was I going to have to sit here and listen to what Sam was saying before my mind decided to relieve me of the torture?

"Kate," Sam broke through my thoughts after nudging my hand. "How are you holding up?"

I looked up at him, thankful at least that they decided to put out the ring of fire and not incinerate me. "Holding up? Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not! How am I supposed to handle this?!"

"Just stay calm, sweetheart." Dean replied. "Ain't no reason to go flying off the handle."

I glared at him, but decided against being snippy with him. If I was then it might give these guys incentive to just kill me. Instead, I wiped away the tears and asked. "What do I do now?"

Sam smiled, trying to keep me calm with his damn puppy dog eyes. "Well, we brought you here because we wanted to protect you. We knew that Lucifer was gonna be coming after you. So, if you don't object, we'd like to help you."

"Help me? How?"

"You're going to need to learn how to control your abilities." Castiel answered. "Because if you don't it's only a matter of time before you severely harm someone, or maybe even kill someone."

Sam's eyes rolled. "What he means by that... Is that since you've never used these abilities before we need to be careful."

"And what happens if for some odd reason I can't learn how to use these abilities or whatever? What happens to me?"

Dean moved his eyes to his brother, clenching his jaw. Sam didn't seem to want to look at me as he spat out his answer.

"We'll figure something out." He nodded. "You don't have to worry about it. We'll help you."

Why did I get the feeling that their solution to that worst case scenario was killing me?

"Who are you people anyway, how do you know so much about this kind of thing? And also, what the hell is an angel doing here with you? I thought angels were supposed to be in heaven?" I snapped.

Castiel's eyes squinted. "As far as why I'm here that's really not your concern."

"Ok, tough guy," Dean said, laying his hands on Cas' shoulders. "Take a break, go get rid of our friend upstairs, huh?"

I think it was clear that Castiel didn't like me, although seeing is that his expression since I'd met him looked pissed off beyond belief it was a little hard to tell for certain. But I guess considering that I was the daughter of Satan, I don't think anyone would have liked me much.

"Hey," Sam yet again nudged me. "It's been a long day, and I'm sure you're pretty tired by now, so- Why don't you go get some sleep? We can talk more about this in the morning after your head's clear."

Ha, sleep. Like I would be doing that anytime soon. I seriously doubted if I would sleep ever again after learning about this. As lovely as that thought of sleep was though, I knew it wasn't going to happen. This was reality, not a dream. And I was now faced with a life, and beings, that I never new existed. Now you might ask how I could so easily accept this as true. If someone suddenly approaches you and says your the spawn of a the fucking devil, then naturally you would be quick to dismiss that idea and call that person crazy for ever saying it to begin with. These were the types of incidents that only happened in movies, or stories. Never real life. Sure there were people in the world that believed demons, ghosts and evil spirits existed, but if you were to gather ten people, nine out of those ten people wouldn't believe it at all. Because it just sounded like fantasy, something made up.

But for some odd reason, I couldn't jump to that conclusion. Somehow, it all seemed to fit. I knew my life wasn't normal, that I was strange, there was always something about me that I knew could never fit in with society. I always felt like an outcast, but I had just assumed it was from all of the mental illnesses my therapist's insisted I had. Perhaps that was true, I definitely did have issues as far as actually functioning in the real world. I still had the longing to lock myself up in a room and never come out- Of course now, it was for different reasons.

The one thing about me though, was no matter how much I despised my existence, no matter how miserable I might have been- There was never a second that I wanted to end it all, to give up. To simply blow my brains out, or slit my wrists. There was always something in the back of my mind that always said. "Keep going." Could this have been why? I didn't know. But I did know one thing for certain, there was no way possible I could ever be what these people expected me to be. Whatever it might have been.

"Follow me." Sam said, continuing on with that damn smile as he stood and started for the stairs.

I said nothing but did as he said- Following him up the creaking stairs and to the second floor.

The hallway was just as foul and dirty as the downstairs. Dust and cobwebs lingered everywhere, it was dark and chilling. This place made my apartment seem like a palace in comparison.

"Sorry for the crappy accommodations," Sam said, pushing open the first door on the right. "But it's only temporary."

I stepped into the room, feeling a shiver run through me. The bedroom was slightly more clean than the rest of the house. But the cast iron bed looked ancient. There was fresh blankets and sheets on the mattress but as far as everything else in the room it was old and dusty. The windows were covered by makeshift curtains fashioned out of gray sheets. There was a bedside lamp flicked on, providing very little light.

Sam moved across the room and to a duffel laying in the corner. "We, uh... Well we knew that we might've had to grab you and you wouldn't have gotten a chance to take any of your clothes and stuff, so... We got you something else to wear."

My brow arched when he pulled out the typical outfit a girl my age might've worn these days. It was actually kind of funny seeing Sam, this huge guy, holding up a pair of black skinny jeans and ballerina flats.

"Thanks." I muttered.

"It's ok if you don't like it, but it'll work until you can go somewhere and buy something else, right?" He replied.

"Yeah," I nodded. "It's fine."

But I wasn't the type to wear skinny jeans really, I didn't like to accentuate any of my "features". I preferred to stick to things that were dull, that would make me blend in with the walls and not be noticed. Who knows, maybe that was actually some internal defense mechanism of mine. Maybe somehow I could sense that my life was in danger so I turned myself into this paranoid and skittish girl that liked to hide in her apartment to avoid any type of conflict. Nah, now I was just grasping at straws.

"Well, get some sleep." Sam said, laying the clothes aside and heading for the door. "It's safe here, you don't have to worry about anymore demons."

I only nodded awkwardly as he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving me in silence and solitude. Funny, I used to love the quiet and loneliness but right about now the last thing I wanted was to be alone.

Still I took off my blood soaked clothes and threw on the outfit Sam showed me. The jeans were a little too tight for my liking and the plaid button up was too baggy, but I guess I didn't care. They were clean, and didn't have demon crap all over them. Afterwards I turned down the covers and slipped into bed.

This was not what I expected to happen, of course. Just a few hours ago I was living my life as best as I could. It might not have been perfect, I might have had a lot of issues- But at least I thought of myself as human. Ugh, now... Now if I was going to go by what they had told me, I was the daughter of something else. What the real world considered to be the devil.

Rolling over, I buried my face in the pillow resisting the urge to scream. If anything was going to make me go over the edge and send me into a mental institution this would definitely be it.

* * *

I managed to drift off sometime late into the night but my sleep wasn't sound. I ended up tossing and turning until finally saying to hell with it and pulling myself out of bed.

The sun was just starting to rise, it was still somewhat dark, and as I descended the stairs still dressed in the outfit I "slept" in, I expected to see someone awake. The only one though within view was Bobby who was sound asleep on the sofa.

For a moment I actually considered running away. Everyone was asleep, it would be the perfect opportunity to do it, but- If they found me once, they would definitely be able to find me again so actually doing something like would be pointless. Instead, I opened the front door and walked out onto the porch, taking a seat on one of the steps to watch the sun rise. I hadn't done that in a while. Normally whenever I would wake up before the sun was up I was mentally preparing myself for my job at the coffee house. Funny, I never thought I would actually think about that job and consider it simple and wonderful, but right at that moment I did. To think that I had it so easy before. My life ahead of me now was bound to be full of nothing but danger and fright.

"Morning." I heard Sam say from behind me.

"Morning." I replied back.

He moved across the porch, seating himself next to me on the step.

"I suppose it would be a stupid question to ask how you slept last night?"

Shivering, I tucked my hands under the sleeves of the plaid button up and stared blankly at the slowly brightening sky.

"Yeah, stupid question." I finally said.

He nudged me slightly and waved a pack of cigarettes in front of my face. I snatched them up quickly as he lit one for me.

"Figured you might be needing one of those right about now."

"I needed one last night."

We both stared at the sky which was streaked with colors of gray and gold. I could tell there were rain clouds scattered about, which meant we wouldn't be blessed with sunshine that day.

"How are you holding up? You didn't really say much last night. You didn't ask much either considering everything we told you." He asked.

My shivering hands could barely hold the cigarette but I puffed at it like it could save my life.

"I really don't know what to say."

He nodded, resting his elbows on his knees. "So since we're alone and you're not being ambushed by everyone, is there anything you wanna ask?"

I'm sure there was, but no matter how many questions were swirling around my head right then I couldn't seem to force them out.

"I'm just trying to understand how this is possible." I said finally. "How a person can live for this long and never even realize they weren't completely human."

Sam's brows squeezed together, his forehead creasing in what looked like a concerned understanding. "Listen, uh... You're not alone. You're not the only one that's woke up one day and found out they were destined to be something else."

"What do you mean? Who else is _anything_ like me?"

He smiled faintly, but it was more out of pain then anything else. "Me, I guess. I was cursed when I was six months old. This whole stupid destiny was pretty much written out for me and I didn't have any chance of stopping it. Because of it... I did some really stupid things, caused a lot of trouble. Actually, if you wanna get technical- The reason why you're in so much danger now is my fault."

I blew a puff of smoke out, feeling my face go blank. "How's it your fault?"

"I wanna be honest with you, so you'll know that you can trust me, so... Even though I'm sure Dean's gonna be pissed at me for telling you," He shrugged. "It's gotta be done I guess. I'm, uh... I'm sort of responsible for Lucifer being let out of his cage."

"Cage?" I blinked a few times over. I grew up as agnostic, which meant I didn't necessarily believe in God or the devil, so I didn't know much about religion or the stories that went along with it.

"Yeah, Lucifer was locked in his cage in hell. I made some mistakes... Some really _bad_ mistakes, and because of it he got let out. Because of me he's free, and that's why you're in so much danger now."

After he told me that I turned away and returned my attention to the sky. Normally I guess someone might be pissed at someone for something like that. But for some weird reason, I wasn't. I guess because I could tell that whatever Sam had done to let Lucifer out, wasn't exactly his fault. I don't think he would've done that on purpose, he seemed like too nice a guy for that.

"So, yeah..." He breathed out. "I'm sorry that you're in this situation, Kate."

I only nodded, putting my head into my hands and taking another glorious draw of my cigarette. How simple it would be if I could just vanish into thin air, to cease to exist. To just poof into a peaceful oblivion.

"Is there anything else that you guys didn't tell me last night? I could kinda sense that you were holding back something." I said.

He fell silent to the point that I was forced to look at him. "Maybe," He answered. "But we just weren't sure if you could handle anymore surprises."

"Try me, you might find I can be resilient." Okay that was a big fat lie. I was no where near resilient but I wanted to hear more.

"The thing is... Is these abilities you have... They can be pretty useful if you know how to use them." He answered. "You're powerful, more powerful than any regular angel. It means that if you wanted to, and if you knew how, you could probably even nuke Lucifer if you tried."

And with that I felt like I'd been run over by a bus. "So lemme get this straight," I sat up. "You guys didn't save me out of the goodness of your hearts, you did it because you figure you could use me as some devil smiting weapon? I don't want abilities like that."

"I know." He smiled again. "Which is why you have the choice of denying, or accepting what you could be. If you choose to deny it, then all you gotta do is keep running away from Lucifer. The difference between you and me is that you're actually getting a choice, I didn't."

"Psh. That doesn't seem like much of a life. You would think that since I know nothing of my past, and really don't want to become someone like that then Lucifer would just leave me alone."

"He can't take the risk, Kate. Sure, maybe right now you're content with the way things are. Maybe you want to live your life as a human, but he doesn't know if sometime in the future you might change your mind. In his eyes, he's only safe once you're dead."

That was so unfair. I never asked for any of this. For my entire life I had lived as a human, and I still wanted to live that way. I didn't want these so called abilities, I didn't want to start using them, I didn't want to try and kill Lucifer. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?!

Birds began to chirp in the trees lining the drive, and for a moment it took me back in time. Back to my childhood, when I lived in that small town in Indiana. I loved waking up in the mornings to the birds chirping and the wind blowing in through my bedroom window. It was peaceful. A happy time. I missed it.

"Hey," I elbowed him. "That night some guy came into the coffee shop and Dean got all alpha male on him, who was he?"

"His name's Crowley," Sam answered. "He's a demon, but to be more specific he's actually the King of Hell."

"A- A demon... The... King?" I stuttered. "Why was he there?"

"Studying you probably. He wanted to make sure he found the right girl. And, I guess after Dean came in there it pretty much confirmed you were. It's not only Lucifer that's gonna be after you, Kate. There's gonna be angels after you, demons, and I guess to be specific Crowley."

"But... Why?"

"We don't know yet, but with Crowley you can never be too careful. Whatever he plans to do with you isn't gonna be good."

This just kept getting worse and worse. I suddenly wished I had the ability to poof myself to some remote island somewhere in the middle of the ocean where no one could track me down.

"So how exactly did you guys track me down? If I'd been missing since I was born then how'd you ever come to find me anyways?" I asked now.

He sighed and stood from the steps. "That was all Cas. Once he found out that Lucifer had a daughter out there somewhere he started searching. The guy's good, I'll give him that. He found you before anyone else could."

"What's with him, huh? Not to be rude since the guy's your friend, but... He was kind of a butt hole last night. He doesn't like me, does he?"

Sam nodded and locked his eyes on mine. "He's worried I guess. Since you're Lucifer's kid he doesn't know if we can trust you. Since you have these hidden abilities he thinks that you might... Go off and hurt someone."

That made me frown. I don't know why but the thought of an actual angel being scared of me, or hating me hurt my feelings. I thought angels were supposed to be nice? But like I said, I didn't know much about religion, I could've been completely wrong about that.

I guess this meant that I needed to prove that I could be trusted. That I wasn't some crazy Nephilim beast that wanted to slaughter everyone around me. But how does one try to prove something like that when that said person was starting to wonder herself if she could be trusted? I didn't know anything about this sort of thing, about these abilities or whatever that I might have possessed. There was no telling if one day I could snap and start killing everyone around me. I didn't want to hurt anybody, especially not the ones that actually risked their butts to save me. I didn't want to hurt Sam. Even though I didn't really know him I could tell he was a nice guy, and really did want to help. I didn't want to blow up one day and possibly take him out with me. So I guess I made a decision right then. As much as I didn't want to embrace what I was, I didn't want to learn how to use my powers or whatever you wanna call them, I needed to. Because I wasn't evil, and I didn't want to hurt anyone.


	7. Chapter 7

So what was weird to me, other than the entire situation, was that Dean, Sam, their angel pal and Bobby were just content for the moment with staying in this old crappy house. So they claimed we were safe here, no one could see us and we couldn't be detected by any demons or angels, somehow. I tried to sneak around and listen to their private conversations when they thought I wasn't around, but it seems that Cas had the uncanny ability of sensing me lurking around corners. They would immediately clam up and stop talking, so I didn't learn much of anything other than Sam wanted Castiel to start, for lack of better words, "training" me.

I wasn't sure what came with this so called training, but to me it didn't seem like it would be anything pleasant. Since we were out in the middle of no where, Dean figured it wouldn't hurt to start it here. Needless to say I wasn't thrilled with the idea. Yeah maybe we were out in the country in seclusion, I wasn't anywhere near the city and couldn't possibly nuke it from here- But that didn't mean I couldn't hurt them if something went wrong. Still, everyone was insistent on it, except for Cas. Since the angel really didn't like me much I could tell he didn't in any way what so ever want to do this. I think he would have rather just killed me and be done with the entire situation.

Honestly he scared me, not that the others didn't scare me too, but him... He scared me because he was an angel who had these crazy powers and could kick the hell out of me if he wanted to.

It had been a few days since I was "rescued" from demons in my apartment, and I hadn't left the farm house since. Which meant I'd been living in the same clothes, and hadn't been able to take a shower because these guys didn't have anything a girl would need. So, even though it made me uncomfortable I approached Sam awkwardly as he clicked on his laptop.

He was the only one that didn't make me want to run screaming from the room, mainly because he was the only one out of their group that didn't look at me like I was some kind of monster.

"Um," I said, fidgeting. "I don't wanna be a pain in the ass or anything- But I kinda need... Some... things."

He looked up at me and raised a brow. "Things?"

"Yeah, like... Clothes and stuff. Not to be a pain in the ass, but..."

"You said that already." He chuckled.

I felt my face scrunch up when I realized I was repeating myself. "Oh... Well, yeah. I need some more clothes or whatever. If I'm gonna be here a while then I can't live in these the entire time. And... There's other things I need. Girl stuff, ya know?"

He nodded and grabbed a piece of paper and pencil. "Make a list of what you need, Dean or me can grab it."

"Uh... Well couldn't I just run into town and get it. I'm picky, and I have a sort of routine that I gotta go through. And not to be rude, but you don't exactly know anything about women's clothes."

He gave a crooked smile. "Yeah you're right, I don't. But... We can't really let you go off on your own. It's not safe."

"Then go with me, or have someone else go with me. I know you guys are just trying to help and all but you can't keep me locked up here like some prisoner."

Not that I didn't like being isolated from the world, but now it wasn't my choice, I was being kept here against my will, sort of, and I didn't like it. I wanted to be able to make up my own mind, and if they wanted my cooperation then they couldn't treat me like some crazy bloodthirsty killer.

I guess Sam must've realized that, because he nodded and stood from his laptop. "Okay sure- We'll go into town, but it needs to be quick. We don't wanna take any chances."

Dean decided to enter the room now, and he leaned against the door frame. "Goin somewhere?"

"To town," Sam answered. "To grab some things for Kate."

"You sure that's such a good idea? Not safe out there."

"She'll be okay, I'll be there."

Dean eyed me up and down and I knew he wasn't concerned there might be demons out there trying to kill his brother, but he was wondering whether or not I would try something. It's funny how in the beginning when he kept popping into my life at random he seemed like a nice guy, shady sometimes, but he was always nice. Now it was a complete turn around. Now when he looked at me I didn't see kindness in his eyes, but suspicion and distrust. Like I was some rabid animal that was going to snap and bite at any second and he didn't know whether or not to take me out back behind the woodshed and put me down.

After his glaring at me I felt my eyes fall to the floor as a well of discomfort filled my stomach. Now that I knew who these guys were, I knew they had killed _things _much like me, Dean scared me to death. They were dangerous, they weren't people I could trust, no matter how nice Sam might have been right now- There was always the chance he could turn on me later and kill me. Especially with Castiel there constantly reaffirming their suspicions on how trustworthy I might not have been.

"Let's go." Sam said, offering a smile as he grabbed his jacket and keys.

I followed after him, but not before casting wary glances at Dean from over my shoulder. I halfway expected him to lunge at me and stick a knife in my back by the look in his eyes.

We left the house and jumped in the car, which I had found out was a 67 Chevy Impala. I knew nothing about cars, so when Dean boasted about his I had no idea what he was talking about. It was a car, and had wheels, that's as far as my knowledge went. Although I did have to admit it was a pretty nice ride.

We peeled out of the drive and started for the long drive back into town.

I tried to keep my mind occupied on the scenery as Sam drove, but I couldn't help but feel even more uncomfortable than I had been lately. Being alone with Sam in the car made me feel funny, and not in a good way.

"Sorry about Dean." He said, breaking through the silence. "He can be a dick sometimes, but he's really not that bad of a guy."

"I'm sure." I replied, rolling my eyes. "But he's your brother so I'm sure you're partial."

"Maybe," He smiled. "I know he's been giving you a hard time, but he's just..."

"He thinks I'm a monster." I interrupted. "Yeah, I get it."

He sighed, clenching his jaw. "You're not a monster, Kate."

"But you guys think I could turn into one."

"I don't think that... I think everyone can make the right choice if they're given the chance."

"Castiel doesn't think that. I see the way he looks at me, and I've heard what he's said. He doesn't trust me. He wants to kill me, doesn't he?"

Sam pushed his long hair from his forehead, and it didn't seem that he knew how to respond to that question.

"Cas is a good guy. But he knows Lucifer. And... I guess he thinks that since you're his daughter, you might take after him."

That made me cringe. "I don't know what I can do to prove to you people that I'm not some crazed killer. If you hadn't of showed up I would still just be a normal..." I paused and couldn't help but roll my eyes at that, normal. HA. "I would be as normal as I was before I knew you, I'd still be working at the coffee shop, still be living in my apartment. Why now do you guys automatically assume that I'm gonna morph into some evil thing?"

"I don't." He shrugged. "Like I said I don't think you're a monster, Kate. And I don't think you're gonna become a monster. You know what's right and what's wrong, you seem like a nice girl- I don't think you're gonna morph into anything else."

He might have been telling the truth, but that didn't mean his opinion couldn't change later.

Once we hit town the first thing Sam did was stop in front of a tattoo parlor, and for a moment I only stared at the bright neon sign in confusion.

"Uh... What are we doing?" I asked.

"Yeah," He cringed slightly. "I was gonna talk to you about this but I didn't get the chance. You, uh... You need to get tatted up."

"Um... What?"

He yanked his shirt collar down exposing his collar bone and a pentagram type tattoo there on his chest.

"It keeps demons out, you can't be possessed if you have one of these. You need one."

I snickered, feeling panic rushing up on me. "Oh, no. I can't get tattooed. I got all these... Issues. You know, with needles and germs, and strangers touching me."

"It's not that bad, Kate. Really, barely hurts at all."

"It's not pain I'm worried about, Sam. It's the germs."

I scowled when I noticed him roll his eyes. "Trust me, it's clean. I looked into it. I wouldn't take you to some skeevy tattoo joint and risk you getting hepatitis or something." He climbed out after that statement and rounded the car and yanked my door open. "Come on. Let's get it over with."

He practically had to pull me out of the car and drag me inside, and once we approached the counter I had gone completely stiff. A woman covered in ink and a spiked mohawk approached the counter and I only stared at her with wide eyes.

This was one of my worst nightmares, being in a place with needles, blood and... _Strangers_. I couldn't speak and Sam had to go through the process of explaining what tattoo I was going to be getting. He pulled his shirt down a second time, and she quickly drew it out and named the price which I paid little mind to. The only thing I could do was stare at the chair of needle death. The chair she was gonna make me sit in and and jam a dirty needle into my skin, branding me for life.

"So, where do you want it?" She asked, and I barely remembered taking off my jacket and sitting in the chair.

"Uhh..." I garbled.

"Unsure?" She snickered. "Can I make a suggestion then?" I only nodded. "Maybe the back of your shoulder? Or..." She grabbed my wrist and flipped over my arm exposing the underside. "Maybe right there." She pointed to an area and still I couldn't force out a word.

Sam only stood there watching, trying his best to hold back a rumpus laugh which of course pissed me off.

"Either of those is okay." I finally spat. "Maybe the arm would be better... I guess."

And the nightmare began, she got me stenciled up and before long was drilling into me with that damned tattoo gun. I didn't even feel the pain, honestly- And was instead watching her every move like a damn hawk. I wanted to make sure that she didn't touch anything gross and then touch me, but she didn't. She wore surgical gloves and everything ended up normal. When she was finally finished and cleaned the left over ink from my arm, I only then noticed that Sam had sat down beside me and was holding my free hand and I was practically squeezing the life out of his.

Once I noticed I quickly pulled away and cleared my throat nervously.

"All done." She said, smiling. "What do you think?"

I stared down at the black ink etched forever into my skin and let out a sigh. "It's great, thanks."

I guess this was just all the confirmation I needed to prove that my life was never going to be the same again.

She wrapped my new ink in saran wrap and gave me the usual instructions on how to care for it. Stay out of the sun, don't get it wet in the shower, blah blah blah. I paid attention because I didn't want to risk getting an infection. Not that it mattered, seeing is that my wrists that were snapped by the demon healed almost instantly- I didn't think it would take long for this to heal.

And once it was over and done with and we left the building, I stood on the sidewalk and couldn't seem to form words.

"See," Sam said, smiling. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

Everything seemed to crash down all around me as I stared at the tattoo. How did things change so drastically and in such a short amount of time? One second I was human, the next I was... Something else. Something that had to be branded with a tattoo just to keep demons from possessing me, someone that needed to learn how to control some hidden power that was hidden somewhere deep inside of me. Someone that was the daughter of the most feared creature in the entire world.

"Let's just go get me some clothes, okay? I don't feel well." I replied, moving to the car and climbing back in.

Sam waited a minute or so before jumping back in the drivers seat, and he didn't say anything as we drove away from the tattoo parlor and came to the first place that sold women's clothing. I didn't wait for him to say anything still and left the car, slamming the door behind me and entering the shop.

This wasn't the type of place I'd buy clothes. Mainly because it was so expensive. Normally I made do with ordering my clothes online, that way I wouldn't have to interact with anyone. But, I went into a clouded daze as I ran through and grabbed random things off of racks. I stuck with my usual ensemble. Plain colors, hoodies and casual jackets, boots for when it got cold, nothing that stood out, nothing that flattered anything about me. I paid with cash Sam had given me, and was out within fifteen minutes. Sam stayed in the car, and still didn't say anything as I climbed back in the car.

I waited for him to take off but instead he only sat there, staring ahead at an SUV parked ahead of us.

"I'm sorry, Kate." He said, breaking through the silence. "I'm sorry that this is happening to you." I said nothing in response and he sighed deeply. "I'll get you outa this, I promise. And, once it's over you can go back to your old life."

"Easier said then done," I finally spoke. "How does one go back to their old life after they've found out about all of these horrible things?"

"I dunno. Once I find out... I'll let you know."

He started the car and pulled away, stopping at our next destination which was a pharmacy. I needed the usual girl things, such as shampoo and soap, and whatever else I could think of that would keep me out and away from the safe house as long as possible. I ended up throwing things in the cart that I didn't even need, like a flat iron and hair products. Stuff I very rarely used in my normal life. Yeah I suppose it was kind of rude of me to spend Sam's money so frivolously, but I guess I just didn't care right then. After I'd gone to the extreme by finishing off with lotions and make up, I approached the register and laid everything on the counter.

I could see the Impala parked out front, and Sam was still sitting in it but now he was on the phone. His expression wasn't what you would say was happy, in fact he looked pretty agitated. Whoever he was talking to, and I assumed it was his brother, he was yelling at.

Once I paid for my things I grabbed the bags and started for the door- By the time I made it back to the Impala Sam wasn't on the phone anymore, and if he was pissed off you couldn't really tell. Instead he gave me half a smile and before long we were starting back for the safe house.

"So you get everything you need?" He asked.

"I guess so. You know, it would have been much easier if I could've just gone back to my apartment. That way I wouldn't have had to use your money."

"That's too dangerous. Wouldn't want to risk going back to your apartment and another demon showing up, or someone worse than that. Crowley maybe."

"How long am I gonna have to stay locked up in your safe house?"

He looked at me, and his expression said I should've known the answer to that question.

"Uh... Kate, considering the situation... You're not gonna be able to go back home for a while. Once Dean and I leave here, you _have _to come with us."

I felt my face go flat. "Um, what?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew that. It's gonna take a while to figure out what we're gonna do about Lucifer, and in the mean time-" He shrugged. "You need to be with people who can protect you. And that's me and my brother."

"I guess I don't get a say in this, right?"

"Sorry, but no... This isn't something to take lightly. Your life is in danger, and to be frank..." He paused and took a sharp turn towards the country. "We can't take the risk of Lucifer getting hold of you and possibly swaying your mind. We still don't know what he plans to do with you yet."

"I thought he wanted to kill me?"

"As far as we know he does, but that still doesn't answer why he wanted you born in the first place. There's a possibility he might change his mind about killing you."

I slumped down in my seat and didn't speak the remainder of the drive.

So it wasn't just these guys coming here and pulling me out of my apartment and staying in a safe house. They actually intended for me to leave with them once they decided their time was up here. Were they serious? I couldn't leave with them! It was all I could do to leave my apartment and go to my damn job, and they expected me to just jump in the car with them and go who the hell knows where? I'm sorry, but that just wasn't possible. I needed my apartment, even if I hated it, I needed my normal routine, my usual boring life. Sam might have been nice and all, and maybe they did want to watch out for me, but they were going to be sorely disappointed once they realized I wasn't going to cooperate with them to their liking. I wasn't just some object they could pick up and drag around the country side with them. I was a human... No, I guess I wasn't a human being now was I? I was a god damned Nephilim and if I stayed here I could die.

But would that have really been all that awful? It's not like I had anything to live for, and knowing what I did now, well... It didn't exactly make me want to jump up and dance in glee. It only made matters worse.

Sorry Sam, but I had absolutely no intention of following you off into the sunset.

When we pulled to a stop at the safe house, Sam offered to carry my bags but I refused and lugged them inside myself. As far as I was concerned I was going to spend the remainder of my time here upstairs and locked in the bedroom. Of course I didn't make it to the stairs because Dean stepped into the room with Castiel following and cleared his throat.

"Hold up, Kate." He said. "We gotta talk."

I dropped my bags to the floor once I noticed that they both held stern expressions. Sam noticed it too once he came inside and closed the door.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Cas was doin some thinkin," Dean answered. "And we think it might be a good idea if we jogged Kate's memory a bit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked now.

"The period of your life that's missing," Cas said. "The years of your childhood that you claim is nothing but darkness. We want to know what it is you've blocked, or... If something might have been blocked from you."

I shook my head. "I, uh... I don't think I'm comfortable with that."

"Why?" Dean eyed me suspiciously. "Is it that you don't remember or you _do _remember, and you just don't want us to know about it?"

"Dean," Sam sighed. "I think it just makes her uncomfortable because it's something she's repressed. I don't think anyone would be eager to bust into memories that could be painful or scary."

"Well, too bad." Dean grabbed a chair and sat it in the middle of the floor. "We're doin it."

"I don't have to do what you tell me." I snapped. "I'm not a child and I'm perfectly capable of making up my own mind. If I don't want to do it then I'm not going to and you can just suck it for all I care."

Cas' eyes squinted but Dean actually snorted out a laugh. "Keep up with that attitude and you'll fit right in around here." He moved closer. "Look, I get that you're scared, it's understandable. But _you _gotta understand that if we're gonna help you, we're gonna need all the information we can get. And if there's a possibility you know something, something that's been blocked or repressed, we gotta find out what it is."

"But..." I felt on the verge of tears. "What if it's something horrible, something that I can't handle?"

"We'll figure it out. Cas can do a little mind mojo on you or something, I'm sure he can block it once we get whatever it is."

I looked to Cas and finally for once since I met the angel he didn't look like he wanted to tare my head off. For once his eyes held sympathy.

"Okay," I nodded, moving awkwardly to the chair and sitting. "I guess I don't have much of a choice with this one either."

After that statement Sam looked even more guilt ridden, and moved to stand off to the side as Cas moved in front of me.

"This might be uncomfortable." He said. "I'm not certain if there's a wall in your mind or not, so I'm going to have to search." After raising his index and middle finger, he suddenly stopped. "I would advise you to remain calm however, there's no way of knowing if you could possibly harm yourself or... Us."

I nodded and felt myself go stiff, except for my hands which were shaking. When Cas laid his fingertips against my forehead I suddenly felt very invaded. Like there was someone or something inside my brain, picking and prodding and sifting through thoughts and emotions that were completely private. I had never experienced it before, but it was what I assumed it would feel like to be possessed. Having no control over my actions, my movements being taken over by some unknown force that was so much stronger than myself.

It lasted a good thirty seconds before he pulled away and I was allowed my mind back.

"There's a wall there." Cas stated, his brows scrunched. "Are you certain you want to break it?"

He directed that question to Dean who nodded adamantly. "It's gotta be done."

"Dean," Sam said. "Maybe we should talk about this a little more."

"No time for that. We gotta be leaving here soon." Dean replied.

That was all the confirmation Cas needed before he reached up a second time.

"I'll try to slow the memories, so you won't be overwhelmed. Close your eyes, and as they come tell us what you're seeing." He said, then pressed his fingers against my forehead a second time.

First sensations were that he was doing something that shouldn't have been done. I would describe it as alarm bells going off in my head, warning me to turn back, to not look at what was hidden behind that wall. But I couldn't, because the memories were already leaking through one at a time.

"What do you see?" I heard Cas ask.

Swallowing a knot in my throat, I couldn't see anything right off. "Nothing," I answered. "I smell flowers."

"Flowers?" Sam said now. "Ok, what else?"

I was a little girl, maybe five years old and I was running through a garden. I felt happy and free.

"There's a garden, huge... With rock paths and perfectly sculpted bushes." I said. "I'm just a kid, but... I don't think I'm alone."

"Who else is there?" Cas asked.

My heart rate increased as I tried to hone in on whoever was with me. The alarm bells were going off again, telling me to not look- To turn around and leave this memory behind. But I didn't, I kept going, I kept searching when suddenly the smell of flowers was overrun by rotten eggs.

"I smell sulfur," I said now. "There's a little girl behind me, she's following me. I think she's watching me making sure I don't get into any trouble."

"A demon body guard?" Dean said, he sounded skeptical.

Suddenly the memory shifted, and I was no longer standing in a garden, but instead a room that was covered in blood from floor to ceiling. I was in the middle of the gore with blood dripping from my hands. Bodies littered the way, but the smell of sulfur was just as prevalent.

"Demons are dead." I said now. "I think... I think I killed them."

My breath quickened into short fast pants, tears were running down my cheeks and my heart was about to pound out of my chest.

"How'd you kill them?" Dean kept going.

"She made me do it... This little girl. She told me that I needed to be prepared, that I needed to learn how to use my powers for the upcoming battle. She made me do it!" I screeched, clenching the sides of my head with my hands. "Oh god she made me kill them all!"

"Cas stop," Sam said, I heard him stomp across the floor. "Stop it. That's enough for now."

But Cas didn't listen. "Who was the girl? What was her name?" He asked.

I was sobbing now and could barely breathe, but the name of the girl was pounding through my head to the point of madness.

"Lilith!" I shouted. "Her name was Lilith!"

I heard Dean curse something intangible under his breath. "Okay, it was Lilith, awesome. So who was it that put the wall up in your mind, Kate?"

I tried to move out of the memory of blood and dead bodies, opening doors like I was trapped in some kind of sick maze. I'd come to a dead end, or an empty room, only to move on to another one and find more blood and gore. By the time I reached the end of what seemed to be a hallway I was frantically sprinting and pushed through the last door to find myself standing in a graveled driveway that led to the mansion from my nightmares.

This time it was different, it wasn't old and dilapidated, the fountain out front wasn't cracked and was spritzing bursts of clear blue water. I wasn't five years old anymore, but more along the lines of seven- Right at the moment that I started to remember my childhood. Sitting on the steps of the mansion was my adoptive Father. When he saw me he tried to smile, and even being just a little girl I could see there was nothing but pain in his eyes.

He brought me closer and sat me on his lap, and normally I would've been happy to see him but this time it felt different. It felt cold, and that damned rotten egg smell just wouldn't go away. When he looked down at me, I remember going stiff at seeing his eyes turn black.

_"I'm going to take all of this away, kiddo." He said, still trying to smile through the pain. "You won't have to remember this. Lilith was wrong, you aren't meant for this war."_

I didn't know what he meant, and didn't ask. And when he pressed his palm against my forehead I felt that invading sensation once again.

"My Dad," I answered, feeling my blood run cold. "My adoptive Dad, he was a demon. He... He put the wall up."

There were still memories that needed to be sifted through but I guess Cas decided I'd been through enough for the moment and pulled his fingers away. I nearly toppled forwards out of my chair before he caught me.

"Your Dad?" Sam grabbed a chair and moved it in front of me. "Your adoptive Dad was a demon?"

I nodded, wiping the tears away. "His eyes were black, and he put the wall up. He said that Lilith was wrong and that I wasn't going to fight in the war."

Cas crossed his arms and looked to be deep in thought, and Dean just seemed completely dumbfounded.

"Uh, why would he give a crap about you fighting?" He asked. "If he was a demon, he was probably in on the slaughter fest."

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Cas?" Dean turned his attention to his angel pal. "What's this mean?"

"I'm not certain," He answered. "Perhaps her Father regretted his decisions and decided to spare her the fate Lucifer had intended."

"But why?" Sam's forehead crinkled again. "Why would she be with Lilith and learning to use her abilities, and then he decides to block it all out with a wall in her mind?"

"I don't know," Cas continued. "If I knew the name of the demon possessing her Father then possibly I could ask him. If he's still alive. He very well might have been killed for what he did with Kate." He stood tall. "While I slowed the flow of memories as they were being released, I was also able to see them myself. And after her Father placed the wall in her mind, he disappeared with her and kept her hidden. At least until he vanished from the memories. I'm assuming that's when he was supposedly killed overseas. But from what I could detect, it seemed as though he truly cared about her welfare, he didn't want her to be associated with demons. He tried to protect her."

This was too much, I felt like throwing up and could feel chunks rising in my throat. All of this time I thought my Dad didn't really care too much about me since he was never around, but turns out maybe he was out there fighting off demons and trying to keep them away from me. For all of these years I never missed my Father, but suddenly I was overwhelmed with sadness over his being gone.

"Okay, well-" Dean ran his hand down his face. "If she knew how to use her powers or whatever, does that mean she's dangerous?"

"Not presently, because her knowledge on how to use her abilities is still hidden- I didn't release those memories." Cas answered. "So we have two choices. One, I could break the wall and allow her to remember, or two- We can start from scratch, and I would teach her all over again."

Funny how they were talking about me as though I wasn't even there. It seemed Sam was the only one that was concerned with how I might've been feeling now.

"Guys," Sam said, taking his focus off of me and moving it to his brother and the angel. "Maybe we should take a break, huh? Maybe we should talk about this more tomorrow?"

"We gotta figure this out now, Sammy-" Dean replied. "What would be safest? Busting the wall and having her remember all at once, or you doin as you said, starting from scratch?"

Castiel sighed and shook his head. "Honestly I'm hesitant for her to remember everything all at once. Since we don't know if we can trust her just yet..."

"Excuse me?" I barked, snapping out of my emotional trauma filled daze. "You don't know if you can trust me?" I jumped to my feet. "Fuck you, I haven't done anything to make you distrust me! I've been nothing but cooperative since you barged into my life. I didn't ask for your help, so if you think that I'm gonna go crazy and start killing all of you then just leave and let me go back to what's left of my life!"

They fell into silence for a few awkward seconds before Dean cleared his throat.

"Yeah..." He said. "Sorry bout that. Cas doesn't really know what being subtle means."

Cas' eyes squinted as his lips cinched, but after Dean elbowed him roughly he shook it off.

"My apologizes, Kate." He said afterwards.

His apology didn't mean anything to me. Because I knew it was only for show. They didn't trust me, and they were scared of me. They thought I was going to flip out and start killing like I did when I was a child. But, when I was a little girl I didn't have a choice back then. Lilith made me kill those demons as practice. It scared me, it made me feel horrible and I sobbed through the entire thing. Which is why my Dad decided to block all of those memories from me, because they were so horrible no one should have to go through that.

"Maybe it would just be best if I went home and you guys went your own way." I said. "This isn't going to work, and honestly I don't want it to. I just want to go home."

Sam sighed. "Kate you can't. If you did that then it's only a matter of time before someone else comes after you. Crowley, or more demons, angels, or maybe even Lucifer."

"I don't care." I sniffled. "Let them come after me, I don't care. It's not like my life is going to amount to anything now. Just let them finish me off, what does it matter? Honestly I'd be better off dead."

Dean lowered his eyes to the floor. "Come on, you don't mean that."

"What do you know?" I replied. "You think that I wanna keep going, knowing that my real Father was the god damned devil? How am I supposed to have any kind of normal life after this? And I certainly don't want to stay with you people, knowing that you don't trust me, or that you think I'm dangerous. Just let me go home, and go your own way."

I left the room and exited out the front door, taking a seat on the front porch steps and pulled out my cigarettes. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely get one lit, and I couldn't stop sobbing. Why did I suddenly feel like the freak or the outcast again? Like when I was a kid and I would attempt to play with the kids in the neighborhood. I was always the last one picked for whatever type of game we'd be playing, and always the brunt of everyone's jokes. I was the weird girl, the girl with no friends, the one who was shy and stood in the background with my eyes planted on the ground. No one liked me, everyone made fun of me.

Now I was the outcast for entirely different reasons. I was still a freak but now it was because of what I was born as.

Just when I thought my life couldn't be any worse, this had to go and happen.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't know how long I sat outside before someone decided to come and join me. Really, I would have rather they just leave me alone instead of faking sorrow and trying to convince me that they were really trying to help. Turns out though, that the one to come outside was Castiel.

That surprised me, really. I had figured it would have been Sam, since he seemed to be the only one that was even remotely nice to me. But, there the angel stood, staring down at me with these blue eyes that seared into your very soul.

"What do you want?" I barked, taking a drag of my third cigarette.

He didn't answer right off, and instead sat down stiffly on the step beside me.

"I came out here to properly apologize." He said, his voice monotone. "I didn't intend to offend you with my comments, I was only stating the facts. And the fact of the matter is is that we don't know you, Kate. And you can't judge us for not trusting you, considering who your Father is."

Now my eyes seared into his, and I was trying to make it evident he was only pissing me off more.

"And _you _can't judge _me _for getting defensive for you not trusting me, especially since up until a few days ago I had no fucking clue who my real Father was."

"I understand that." He nodded. "And I realize that I haven't exactly been very kind to you since you came to stay with us. But _you _have to understand that we haven't had many instances with angels in the past that have been positive. Since I fell and became friends with the Winchesters, we've been hunted. It's only logical to assume that the daughter of Lucifer could possibly be a danger."

I flicked my cigarette into a puddle and wrapped my jacket around me tightly. "You sure do have a way with words, you know?"

"Excuse me?"

"You suck at apologizing, and you suck at trying to seem like you don't hate me or want to kill me. Just be honest... You do."

"It's actually the complete opposite, whether you choose to believe that or not. I don't hate you, and I certainly don't want to kill you. But, Sam and Dean are my friends, and I want to protect them. So if someone comes into our lives that could possibly be dangerous, of course I'm going to be wary." He shifted on the step until he was facing me. "I've been forced to kill several of my brothers and sisters since the apocalypse started, I would hate to have to kill you as well."

"I'm not your sister." I snapped back.

"Perhaps not, but a part of you is an angel, so in a way we're family." He stared at me intently. "It's alarming that you're so willing to accept death, rather than trying to find a way out of this."

Jesus, the angel wasn't going to try and be a therapist now was he?

"You have to admit that it would be much simpler if I was gone. You wouldn't have to worry about watching out for me, you wouldn't have to worry about Lucifer or anyone else getting hold of me. If I was dead, I wouldn't have to worry about what might happen." I replied.

"There's always the other option, Kate. You could allow us to help you."

"Why should I put your lives in danger?"

"This isn't something we aren't familiar with. Sam and Dean have been saving people for years so they're the most qualified to protect you."

"Doesn't mean I'm going to let them do it. Why should I? I think I should be able to make up my own mind, and if I just want to go home then I should be able to."

He gave a faint smile. "You don't know the Winchesters very well. They would never let that happen. They have a tendency to take matters into their own hands when it concerns something they're passionate about. They aren't the type of men that would walk away from someone in need."

How nice of them, but what if that person didn't want help? What if they just wanted to be left alone? Wasn't it considered abduction if they just carried me off with them against my will? Yes, yes it was. Not that I would call the police and press charges against them or anything, of course I wouldn't. But still, I would like to have some say in what happened in my own damn life.

"So, what happens now?" I asked.

"That all depends on you," He answered. "We can't very well force you into wanting to live. You have to decide that on your own accord. And if you do decide that life is better than death, then perhaps we can start working together."

"Say I decided that, what exactly does working together mean?"

His head tilted to the side. "You would need to learn not only how to use your abilities, but also how to survive in Sam and Deans world. They're Hunters, which means they're always getting into scrapes, some severely dangerous. You would need to know how to take care of yourself."

Well that sounded completely terrifying. I'd spent my entire life avoiding anything that could be dangerous. I put seven dead bolts on my door and nailed my windows shut to try and avoid danger. Now, if I agreed to work with these guys it would mean I'd be running full force into something that could very well get me killed? Great.

"What comes with that?" I asked now.

"You should learn to shoot for starters," Sam answered from the open doorway. "Kind of important knowing how to use a gun."

"What?!" I shrieked, leaping to my feet. "A gun, are you crazy? I can't use a gun!"

"It's not that hard," He moved onto the porch and motioned for Cas to scoot over, once he had he sat down beside me. "You just need to look at it as a way of keeping yourself alive."

"But... A gun?" I huffed. "Guns scare me."

"Kate, you can't let that stop you. Yeah, things are scary as hell and you're in a situation you've never been in before- But this isn't about locking yourself behind deadbolts anymore, this is about doing something that can actually keep you alive. And... Learning to use a gun is just the start of that."

"Well that's just fantastic, so what else would I need to do? Practice throwing hand grenades or using a flamethrower?"

"Depends on the monster we're tryin to gank," Dean said now. What was this a party on the porch? "Some monsters can only be killed with fire."

"Oh of course, that makes perfect sense."

Dean joined us as well and leaned against the porch railing. "The hand grenades though," He clucked his tongue. "Yeah, that's not somethin we use. Actually... Why don't we? Would be much easier to blow the crap out of something then getting our asses kicked by it."

"Right, Dean-" Sam snorted. "We'll go throwing grenades around, that sounds safe."

Dean only grinned sarcastically. "Okay, so- I think the first thing Kate needs to do is learn how to use a gun before we take off again. All that other stuff can wait."

"Other stuff?" I asked.

"Like learning how to control your powers." Sam answered for him. "That can be set aside for the moment." He stood from the porch steps and held his hand out. "So, let's go do that then."

I hesitated taking his hand, but relented after he shook it slightly trying to snap me out of it. Once I took it he helped me up and I followed him to the Impala and he popped the trunk open.

My eyes went wide at the arsenal in there. And for a moment I couldn't help but wonder if these guys were raging psychopaths. There were guns, knives, wooden stakes, machetes, silver spikes and bullets, cloth bags of something I couldn't identify and dozens of other things that made my stomach roll.

"You guys know how to use all of that?" I breathed out.

"Yeah, kinda comes with the job description." Sam replied.

I motioned towards an old cigar box that sat on top of the pile of death objects. "What's that?"

He grabbed it and flipped it open, and inside there was FBI badges, US Marshall badges, fake I.D's, and everything else illegal.

"Uh... Should I ask?" I snorted.

"Probably not. That also comes with the job description."

"Okay, I _gotta _ask... How?"

He closed the box and tossed it back in the trunk before grabbing a pistol and a box of ammunition.

"Sometimes with certain jobs we need to impersonate..." He paused and tried to find a way to phrase it. "People that would help us get information we need."

"So you pretend to be FBI agents and you've never gotten arrested for it?"

He snickered sheepishly before closing the trunk. "Well, yeah we kinda have been arrested. But we always manage to get out of it."

"How?"

"Usually the illegal way."

Oh of course. Something told me that the majority of their lifestyle was nothing but illegal. How they hadn't been thrown in solitary confinement was a wonder to me.

He started for the barn in the distance and I followed, unable to ignore how Castiel and Dean were watching us from the porch. Once we reached the rickety fence he started lining old beer bottles on top that he'd also grabbed from the trunk. Once he was satisfied at the amount of targets he joined me about twenty feet away.

"Okay, we'll start with this." He said, then held out the gun. "First thing's first. Safety," He pointed to the little button on the side. "Make sure it's off when you want to shoot, and on when you're not. Now, when you're loading the rounds make sure the barrel is pointed away from you, obviously- And not at your feet. Then, you press this button here-" He pushed it and out slid the magazine. "It's already loaded but you get the general idea, right?" I nodded. "Okay, so snap it back in, when you hear the click you're done." He finished with that. "Always keep your finger off of the trigger when you're not about to shoot, you'd be surprised how trigger happy you can get if you're freaked out."

He held the gun out to me and I stared at it with a lump in my throat. "Uh... Yeah I'm not so sure about this."

"You'll do fine, Kate. Just remember the gun can't hurt you unless you're careless."

Little did he know, but I was an idiot. I could break my neck just walking across the living room. There's no telling what I would do with a loaded gun. Just my luck I'd end up shooting myself in the face, or shooting him in the face. But, I reached up and took the gun from him anyhow, holding it away from me like it was an old dirty sock.

"Yeah," He chuckled. "I don't think you're gonna be able to hit a target holding it like that. Just relax, take a few deep breaths. It's not a big deal."

"Oh right, not a big deal. I'm holding a death machine."

Now he laughed even louder which made my face turn red. "It's only a death machine if you don't know what you're doing. Here, let me help." He grabbed my hands and pulled them into position, forcing me to hold the gun properly and taking aim for me. "Okay, you can go ahead and put your finger on the trigger." When I didn't move and only stood there frozen he cleared his throat. "Kate, put your finger on the trigger."

"I'm working on it!" I barked. "Don't rush me."

After a deep breath I finally put my finger on the trigger, and to me that was a triumph since I didn't somehow shoot my own hand off.

"Okay, good." He said. "Now, don't pull the trigger, squeeze it. And be ready for the recoil, it packs a punch especially if you've never shot a gun before. And also, don't expect to hit something on the first try."

"Oh I don't. I know I'm going to suck."

I was pretty sure he was fed up with me already, but he didn't say anything. When I finally let the first shot off, naturally it didn't hit a bottle. When he let go of my hands and took a step back I started to panic.

"What the hell?!" I shouted. "I can't do this on my own!"

"Kate, be reasonable. If we're in a situation that's dangerous you can't expect me to aim it for you, right?" He snickered.

"Why not? You just carry me around and point the gun for me, sounds reasonable enough." I smirked.

"Try again." He ignored my joke and pointed to the bottles.

So I did, I shot again and still missed. But that wasn't surprising since my hands weren't exactly steady. Guns made me nervous... Actually, they scared the ever loving crap out of me. I wasn't the type of girl that could "do" weapons. I didn't even like using a steak knife. Okay, clearly I wasn't going to accomplish anything if I was standing there thinking about how much guns freaked me out. I needed to try and mentally place myself in a dire situation. Like, imagine that I was standing in front of someone that wanted to kill me, and the only way I could save myself was if I aimed that damn gun and actually hit what I was shooting at.

Overall that wasn't hard to imagine. All I had to do was think about the demon that attacked me in my apartment, or my devil Dad- And before long my hands were completely solid and steady and I popped off another three rounds and hit three bottles.

Once I noticed that I'd actually hit them I lowered the gun in surprise.

"Good job." Sam said, smiling. And I wished he wouldn't praise me like a puppy who'd gone to the bathroom outside instead of on the carpet. "You'll get the hang of it and be a sharpshooter before you know it."

"Thanks," I said, and shook off the surprise. "How long should I do this?"

"This can be enough for now, at least you get the gist of it. But, you do need to practice more until you're comfortable with a gun in your hands."

"Yeah, I don't think you'd want me covering you right now. I'd probably jump and shoot you in the ass or something."

"Better my ass then my head." He sneered and took the gun back from me. "Eventually you're gonna have to learn self defense, sometimes you can't always pull your gun and shoot- Sometimes you gotta rely on your fists."

"I'm gonna have to punch people?"

"Shyeah," He just couldn't seem to stop laughing at me. "But that's not as easy as it sounds. If you hit someone wrong you can end up breaking your wrist or your fingers. We'll teach you that next time." After stuffing the gun in the waist of his jeans he nodded. "Okay, so... Are you hungry? You haven't really eaten much since you got here, and you haven't even eaten yet today, so..."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'm starving actually."

He led the way back to the house where Dean and Cas still waited on the porch.

"Let's go grab some lunch." Sam said.

"Best idea you've had all damn day." Dean replied, bouncing down the steps. "Kate, please tell me you like pie?"

"Uh..." I didn't expect that question. "Well, yeah. I think everyone likes pie?"

"Awesome," He grabbed the keys from Sam and started for the Impala. "Then there ain't no reason why we can't get along."

Well okay... If I knew all it took to get on Dean's good side was to like pie then I would have told him that days ago.

* * *

Table manners apparently weren't something Dean had ever heard of before. Not that I cared, it's not like I went to finishing school or some crap like that. Actually it was kind of amusing watching him practically make out with his burger and pie. What surprised me was that Sam was eating a salad. It was hard to believe that he got to be so large eating only food like that. Cas of course ate nothing, and instead opted for sitting beside Dean staring out the window. He'd offer a one word response to whatever the conversation might have been, but for the most part seemed distracted.

While I wasn't ready to fling my body in front of a fast moving bus anymore, it didn't mean I was anymore happy about the situation. I still wanted to go home, I still wanted to return to my old boring routine life.

I had to admit it felt foreign and unusual sitting at a table with Sam and Dean. They seemed to have snapped back to their own normal lives and didn't even notice me sitting there. Dean kept joking with Sam, or calling Cas names. Sam retorted with something snippy of his own, they'd both share a laugh and I could only sit there with my fork in my hand watching with my brow arched.

It must have been nice that they could feel so comfortable with the situation already. Because I certainly didn't, it was all I could do to force down a few bites of... Actually, what the hell was I eating? I didn't even remember ordering my food.

At a quick glance down, I noticed I was eating some kind of pasta salad.

As I listened to their conversation, Dean ended up saying that we were going to be leaving town soon. Probably in the morning after we got everything packed up and ready.

"Where exactly are we going to go?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the table.

"Good question," Sam replied. "We don't have another job lined up just yet, so..." He shrugged. "What do you think, Dean?"

"Should probably head to Bobby's," He answered. "Get some work done while we have some down time."

"What kind of work?" It still amazed me sometimes that I could actually form questions and ask them around these people.

But just because I could ask it didn't mean they were anymore motivated to answer. In fact, it didn't seem as though Sam or Dean had any desire at all to answer. Sam though, I suppose he felt I deserved to know something at least.

"Uh," He cleared his throat. "Well, we're still trying to figure out what we're gonna do about Lucifer."

"O-Oh." I stuttered in response. Well maybe it wasn't such a good idea to know the answer to my question.

I didn't want to have anything to do with my... No, I couldn't even say the words in my own head. Lucifer might have been responsible for me being born, but that in no way what so ever made him my "Father". To me, a Father would be protective, they would do whatever they could to ensure their child's safety. Seeing is that, chances are, Lucifer wanted me dead- That wasn't exactly Fatherly behavior. Not to mention he was the devil, and was probably looking forward to skinning me alive, and probably eager to do the same to Sam and Dean as well.


End file.
